


Regencypalooza [WIP Amnesty]

by fleurdeliser, tuesdaysgone



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Dubious Historical Accuracy, F/F, F/M, Harlequin, M/M, Multi, WIP Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:59:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 54,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdeliser/pseuds/fleurdeliser, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesdaysgone/pseuds/tuesdaysgone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lindsey and Jamia run away from finishing school. Shenanigans ensue. (To quote tabulaxrasa, "Pride & Prejudice and a crime caper.")</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regencypalooza [WIP Amnesty]

**Author's Note:**

> This is unfinished and unbetaed and we have decided not to finish it, so we are putting it out into the ether.

"We'd be discovered immediately without some sort of disguise," Lindsey whispered, coming up behind Jamia and slipping an arm around her waist as they walked through the garden, and continuing a running conversation. "One of us could pose as the other's servant?" 

"We're too young. People would see right through us," Jamia replied with a sigh. They'd been discussing escape routes off and on for several interminable weeks and this was, sadly, the most workable solution either of them had come up with. Uncle Brian _would_ live up north. Though disguises could mean.... "We could pretend to be boys." 

"You're brilliant," Lindsey said with a beaming smile. "Hats to hide our hair, some bulky jackets to hide our shape... you'll need more bulk in certain places than I," she teased, and Jamia tried not to blush. 

"We can probably make some of the clothes ourselves. Shoes are the biggest worry," Jamia said. 

"And at least one of us needs to look the part enough to rent a room at an inn," Lindsey pointed out. "We can't look like vagrants." 

"I hope you're not disparaging my sewing skills," Jamia said, and Lindsey took her hand and squeezed. 

"No, dear heart. You always get better marks than me. Miss Winston quite despairs of me. But it would take a long time to get all the material, and we'd have to make them at night, and I -" she took a deep breath. 

"I don't want to stay here that long either, Lindsey," Jamia said, leaning her head against Lindsey's shoulder. "But - wait. What about those old pantomime costumes downstairs? Do you still have keys to the music room?" 

"I do," Lindsey replied excitedly. "The costumes. How Miss Minchin didn't burn them when she took over the school, I'll never know." 

"Shhh," Jamia said, casting a furtive look towards the school. She was sure no one was in this part of the gardens, but she was terrified of being overheard nonetheless. Their haughty new headmistress had a nasty habit of being everywhere at once. "I hate her," Jamia breathed, and tried to relax. 

Lindsey pressed a kiss to her temple. "Me too." 

Jamia wished she could simply lean on Lindsey until teatime, but someone was sure to come along sooner or later, and their chances were pretty even of it being someone who would carry tales to Miss Minchin of the two of them loitering in the garden. The woman seemed to have a sixth sense for which of her students had sufficiently non-influential or distant parents and guardians. She was a bully, pure and simple. 

Instead, they had their Deportment class with _her_. Perfection wasn't good enough for her and they were all perfect. Jamia knew the other teachers were nearly as miserable. Luckily Lindsey and Jamia could escape to their room after tea for the mandated afternoon rest. And luckily, the headmistress hadn't yet seen fit to shuffle room assignments. Jamia was fairly certain it was just a matter of time. The new administration seemed to favor "divide and conquer" as an educational method. 

Jamia probably would not fare too badly, but quite a few of the other girls liked to tease Lindsey about her foreign father and Jamia knew she would be miserable living with one of them. Lindsey's stepfather was worse, though. Which was why they have to get out of here. She knew Uncle Brian would help, but she had to _get_ to him. 

They collapsed in an exhausted heap when they got into their room. "We'll go for the costumes tonight," Jamia murmured. Lindsey just nodded. Jamia rubbed her cheek over Lindsey's head. "And we can alter them to suit us as quickly as possible, and then go. Probably in the middle of the night too. It's good it's not terribly cold yet." 

Lindsey rolled over and wrapped an arm around Jamia's waist. "I didn't tell you before, but Angelica Kitteredge spilled my brush water today during our painting lesson," she said, voice muffled against Jamia's neck. "It would have ruined my painting if I hadn't been so quick. I knew she did it on purpose, but Minchin was sitting in on the class so I could say nothing."

Jamia wrapped her arms around Lindsey and murmured, "I'm sorry." She hated Angelica Kitteredge at least as much as she hated Minchin. Possibly more, since she'd had more time to make Lindsey's life miserable than Minchin had. Angelica was everything Lindsey wasn't in all the worst ways. 

"Do you have kitchen duty tonight?" Lindsey asked. Jamia nodded. 

"Three more days. Maybe I'll sneak into Angelica's room on my way back and cut off a handful of hair, that would serve her right." 

Lindsey snorted, but replied, "That would only earn you more kitchen duty. But I thank you for the offer." 

Jamia had already had over a week of kitchen duty, and they were only a month into the term. She had very little skill at stifling her smart remarks. She supposed she was fortunate that her parents were on the Continent - somewhere in Spain, she thought - and temporarily out of range of Minchin's letters. But Lindsey's mother and stepfather were most definitely not. She could not do anything else to draw attention, or punishment, because she would not risk dragging Lindsey down with her. Jamia tried to ignore how breaking into the costume trunks and stealing men's clothes was definitely, definitely a punishable risk.

All told, the possibility of being caught awake in their room in the middle of the night was more of a concern. If either of them started looking overly tired during any of their classes, if, God forbid, one of them drifted off during French, that might bring more frequent and less consistent night checks. Jamia put it from her mind and kissed Lindsey's temple. There was no use borrowing trouble. 

At least the door was locked right now, because Jamia was fairly certain they would earn some sort of punishment for sleeping curled up together like this as well. Never mind that it comforted them both. Miss Minchin had proved that she cared not a bit for anyone's comfort who wasn't one of her own little pets.

They made it through the evening meal and then sitting in the parlor working on their embroidery without drawing any negative attention, which was something of a feat for the two of them. Most nights they were required to redo at least half their stitches at the _least_. Jamia hoped that meant Minchin was feeling off and perhaps would patrol the corridors less that night.

Jamia left the parlor after the needlework session to go serve her evening's punishment in the kitchen. Cook was a little more lenient than most of the staff - probably because Jamia was quite a bit more skilled in the kitchen than most of the students - and only set her to kneading bread dough. Minchin and her secretary, Miss Fortnam, only checked in once, and Jamia heard her mention an early delivery the next morning and breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully an early morning meant an early night.

When Jamia finally got the flour washed from her arms and mostly cleaned from her pinafore, she was released back to her room. Lindsey was there waiting, French book open in front of her on her desk, but Jamia was certain she had not made any progress with revising. 

"How was kitchen duty?" Lindsey asked. 

"Fine. The usual. I kneaded the bread dough, so remember me while you eat your morning toast," Jamia answered with a smile as she unpinned her hair. 

"How can I forget when you're still wearing the flour?" Lindsey teased, reaching over to rub at Jamia's cheek with her thumb. 

"Liar," Jamia hissed breathlessly, twisting away with a stifled giggle. 

"Am not. You always miss some," Lindsey replied, catching her chin and holding her still. "It's in your hair, too." She displayed a powdery thumb and forefinger for Jamia. "We cannot have you sneaking downstairs in the dark floured white as a ghost." 

"You still want to go tonight?" Jamia asked, searching Lindsey's dark eyes.

Lindsey nodded. "While you were in the kitchen, I overheard Angelica giggling in the hall about how Minchin is going to make a greater effort to get rid of the 'unsuitable girls.' Obviously, I'm one of them or she wouldn't have made such a point to be so loud about it directly in front of our door." 

Jamia swallowed and tried not to seethe too obviously. "You are most definitely not unsuitable," Jamia assured her. "You are beautiful and clever and talented. Angelica is a vapid, inbred snob. Just because your father was an Italian -" 

"With no wealth or title. And Catholic to boot," Lindsey added. "And I'm an untrainable hoyden, to hear Minchin tell it. If my stepfather gets one more disciplinary report...." 

"I like untrainable hoydens," Jamia interrupted. 

"Well and good, because you are one," Lindsey replied. Jamia stuck out her tongue. Lindsey made a valiant attempt to keep a straight face, Jamia could see the corners of her mouth twitch, but she could not maintain it for long and a grin spread across her face and she started giggling. 

Once Lindsey started laughing, Jamia always followed soon after. She reached out and pulled Lindsey to her so she could muffle her giggles in Lindsey's shoulder. "Shh, we can't get caught now," Jamia gasped out between bouts of giggles. 

"You smell like pastry," Lindsey told her after she quieted down, wrapping her arms around Jamia and leaning her cheek against Jamia's head. 

"Enough mocking," Jamia protested. 

"No," Lindsey said, holding on, "I like it." Jamia could feel Lindsey ease a few stray hairpins out of her tumbled hair. "You'll need to let me help you pin this all up," she mused fondly, tugging at a strand. "You are hopeless." 

" _You_ are mean," Jamia replied. It was a lie, though. Lindsey was the very opposite. It infuriated Jamia that people were so cruel to someone as sweet as her friend. 

They heard the bell indicating the need to turn down their lamps and blow out their candles and be in bed, and Jamia sighed. She forced herself out of Lindsey's arms and they both did all the final things they needed to and then got in bed with their clothes from the day still on under their dressing gowns. When Minchin came by for room check, everything was as it should be on the surface. The waiting - the silent waiting, as tempting as it was to whisper between their two beds - was the hardest part, but it was necessary. Jamia lay curled on her side, watching tree branches blow around outside and listening for the bells in the clock tower in town. Midnight felt more theatrical, but one in the morning was probably safer.

She drifted off a few times, but always startled awake a few moments later. Finally, the clock struck one and they silently slipped out of bed. They put on their slippers and Lindsey got the key from her desk drawer and they opened the door. Jamia was glad she had thought to smuggle an oil-dipped rag up from the kitchen the week before to oil the hinges of the door. The fact that Lindsey even had a skeleton key in her possession was probably enough to earn actual corporal punishment from the headmistress, but Lindsey had had it for years, since the days of a kinder administration and a particularly elderly and forgetful English teacher, and Jamia was the only one who knew about it. 

Jamia held her breath the entire way downstairs and into the theatre room, which was now the music room, and the storage closet in the corner. Jamia pulled a candle stub and a match out of her pocket. Lindsey had to move an unstrung harp and a cello case to get to the wardrobe, but once inside they sifted quickly through the contents in the flickering light.

"The hats," Jamia whispered. Lindsey nodded and grabbed them from the hook. She put one on and plopped the other on Jamia's head. Jamia smiled and handed Lindsey the candle and stooped down to feel along the floor for the shoes. She found two pairs and hoped they fit at least a little. When she stood back up, Lindsey draped trousers and shirts over her arms and pulled two waistcoats and two smart looking jackets over her shoulders. Jamia kissed her cheek. "Let's go back up." 

They set the closet back to rights, and out in the music room, Lindsey rolled the shoes in the trousers and made smart little bundles out of the works, one for each of them. Lindsey snuffed the candle flame with her fingers and handed it back to Jamia, and the two of them scurried back upstairs as silently as they could, freezing halfway down the hall when someone in a nearby room started coughing. When whoever it was settled back down, they waited a few moments more then kept hurrying. 

Jamia could barely breathe, her pulse pounding in her throat, and the door of their room was a welcome sight. She clutched Lindsey's fingers as soon as it shut behind them, and they shared a smile in the gloom, shoving the little bundles into secret hiding places and hurrying to get back in bed. Jamia listened to the bells again, and when all was silent after another quarter of an hour, she whispered, "Lindsey? Are you still awake?"

"Yes," Lindsey whispered back. 

"We are much closer than we have ever been," Jamia whispered. "We could leave in a few days if the alterations are simple." 

"Are you afraid?" Lindsey asked. 

She was. She was afraid they would get caught before they even got out of the school, she was afraid they would be discovered on the road. She was terrified they would take Lindsey away from her and send her somewhere even more horrible. "No," she answered. 

"Nor am I," Lindsey replied.

Jamia wished with all her heart that she could crawl under Lindsey's covers and tell the truth. "Good night," she whispered instead. 

"Good night, dear heart," came the reply.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Lindsey lay awake until after the clock struck three. She had lied to Jamia. She was horribly frightened. There were a thousand different ways everything could go wrong and she could not sleep for thinking of them all. That the escape attempt would still be preferable to the alternatives spoke to how bad things truly were. There were plenty of things about both home and school that Lindsey had never told Jamia. 

She suspected that Jamia knew some, and guessed even more. Jamia was fierce, and already spent enough time working in the kitchens, or writing lines, for offenses that were prompted by protecting Lindsey. It made Lindsey angry sometimes, because she should have been able to defend herself - would have gladly borne the punishments as well - if only she had not been sure the ultimate punishment would be expulsion. She worried about Jamia as well. Her friend's parents seemed well-meaning, but they were distant, constantly traveling and leaving Jamia forgotten at school for much of the year. It was only her father's position as a diplomat that made Jamia's status at school secure. Lindsey was a nonentity by comparison.

The next morning when the bells rang to wake them up, the last thing in the world that Lindsey wanted was to get out of bed. But Jamia sat by her side and petted her hair for a minute and that helped. "I'm not sure we'll be able to stay awake to sew tonight," Lindsey murmured. 

"We'll try the clothing on tonight and do the pinning. If we are too tired, we can leave the sewing for tomorrow. You might feel better after a bit of a rest this afternoon. Or I can just poke you with a pin or two," Jamia teased, pinching Lindsey's thigh lightly.

Lindsey bit her lip and sat up. "That might be necessary," she replied. 

They got dressed and went down to breakfast. The day went quickly after that, both of them on their best behavior. Lindsey did not even react when one of Angelica's little minions trod on her feet in the hall. She merely smiled sweetly and accepted the false apology offered. 

Lindsey pocketed an extra spool of thread from her workbag during their Needlework time that night. When Jamia had gone off to serve her kitchen duty, Lindsey went quickly and quietly upstairs and worked on sums until Jamia returned. They both changed into nightgowns and presented themselves for evening inspection, but as soon as the hallway went quiet, Lindsey pulled the heavy drapes, stuffed a pillow against the crack at the bottom of the door and lit candles from their secret stash while Jamia pulled out the bundles of clothing. 

They tried on the clothes and Lindsey made sure to be extra careful with the pins. One pair of trousers fit Lindsey perfectly and the other would need to be taken in for Jamia. The biggest trouble was the shirts. Jamia couldn't get either to button up properly and both needed taking in around the waist. Jamia was clearly frustrated and embarrassed and Lindsey couldn't have that. 

"We can just bind you. It will be fine." 

"With what? We don't have any spare material," Jamia pointed out. 

"The sheets," Lindsey said. "We can cut strips from them. Let me take care of it," Lindsey said soothingly. 

Jamia breathed out. "All right." 

Lindsey ran her hands through Jamia's hair and kissed her forehead. "Let's worry about the alterations. At least the waistcoats and jackets don't need much. We'll look like proper young gentleman in no time." 

"I am afraid to try the shoes," Jamia admitted. 

"We should have done," Lindsey said decisively and knelt down to pull them from where she'd tucked them into the bed frame that morning. "Sit," she told Jamia, and pulled Jamia's slippers off and slid one of each onto her feet. "How are they?" 

"Rather like boats," Jamia said. She had tiny feet, which Lindsey had always rather envied. "I shall need to stuff the toes. Now you." 

Lindsey pulled herself up off the floor to sit next to Jamia and tugged one on. "A smidgen tight," she declared and tried the other. "Almost perfect. Made for someone with narrower feet, though," Lindsey concluded. 

"Your poor feet will be pinched either way," Jamia said sadly. 

"Worth it," Lindsey whispered. 

"I'll make cool compresses for you, for after, I promise," Jamia replied, and Lindsey bit her tongue. They got to the business of sewing until they could no longer see straight and were in danger of sticking themselves with needles. They crawled into their beds with whispered good nights. And then Lindsey remembered suddenly to remove the pillow blocking the door and leapt out of bed. 

No sooner did her feet hit the cold floor then she heard knocking a few doors away. She whisked the pillow back on her bed and leapt under the covers just as the knocking reached their door. 

The door opened. "Room check, girls," Miss Winston said. "Out of bed." Lindsey held in a sigh of relief. Despite her despair for Lindsey's sewing, Winston was a kind-hearted woman and would only report the most grievous of offenses to Minchin. "Bit chill in here, dears," Winston murmured as she inspected their room. In truth, they'd opened the window to clear out the candle smell. 

"I felt warm," Lindsey told her. 

"You do look a bit flushed," Miss Winston commented. "Visit the nurse first thing if you still feel ill, dear. Jamia, dear, make sure that window is latched." 

Jamia hurried to obey, and Miss Winston bid them to have a good night. When the door was firmly closed behind her and they heard the knock on the next door, Lindsey and Jamia let out their breath. Lindsey stepped across the room and wrapped her arms around Jamia's trembling form. 

"You don't have to do this," Lindsey whispered. 

"Yes I _do,_ " Jamia whispered back. 

"You don't," Lindsey repeated, "but I love you dearly for believing so." 

Jamia squeezed her arms around Lindsey's waist. "Think we can survive two nights on little sleep?" 

"I think we must." Lindsey released Jamia, though she really would have rather - not. 

They both fell asleep quickly and Lindsey, for her part, slept like the dead until the morning bell. Waking up was better that morning than the previous one, but Jamia sat on her bed and petted her hair for a few moments anyway. Lindsey certainly wasn't about to stop her. 

It was not as uneventful a day as the last; Lindsey broke a piece of chalk during their Maths lesson, and was laughed at by half the class. The teacher, sour Miss Cartwright, lectured her sharply for a subsequent mistake and she spent the rest of the lesson flushed and miserable. She didn't tell Jamia about that. Nor did she tell Jamia about Elizabeth cornering her in a stairwell and punching her in the stomach for, apparently, not showing Angelica proper deference at lunch. It took every ounce of Lindsey's will not to fight back. Neither of those things were events, though. They were merely facts of Lindsey's life.

Lindsey was late for their afternoon rest period, and Jamia was sitting on her bed when she finally arrived, hands folded in her lap, looking nervous. "Oh good," Jamia breathed. 

"Sorry to be late, Cartwright kept me after," Lindsey lied. Lindsey felt guilty as soon as it passed her lips. Jamia just eyed her thoughtfully. There was something about her friend that made Lindsey want to tell her every secret she held back, but she refrained. "Should we sew?" she asked. "If we finish, maybe we can leave tonight." 

Lindsey sank down next to Jamia on the bed. Jamia automatically wrapped her arms around Lindsey's waist and Lindsey clung back. "We could." 

Only the trousers and shirt for Jamia were left to sew. They each took a piece and went to their separate beds to work. Lindsey finished the trousers and stripped her bed back and cut several thick, long strips of cloth from the sides of the sheet. With any luck, no one would even notice the sheet had been tampered with for quite some time. She folded the items away. "Jamia," she said quietly. "We need to pack a valise. Dresses, cloaks, shoes." 

"Enough to tide us over," Jamia agreed. 

"And you're sure your uncle won't mind?" Lindsey asked probably for the tenth time. Jamia shook her head and smiled. 

"Uncle Brian has loved me since I was small and demanded he stop a fox hunt happening on the land bordering his." Lindsey smiled too. Jamia had a tender heart to go with her quick temper, and Lindsey loved her dearly. Finally Jamia folded the shirt away. "A bit of sleep," she murmured. "Tonight, Lindsey dearest." 

"Tonight," Lindsey replied. "We must be sure to eat our fill of supper." Jamia nodded and they both curled up against their pillows and tried to sleep until the supper bell. 

Lindsey and Jamia did not put a single toe out of line for the rest of the evening. Lindsey was sure she would not be able to eat a bite, despite her insistence on a filling meal, but she forced herself to eat anyway, eyes on her plate. After Needlework, Jamia went to do her kitchen duty - the last night for it either way - and Lindsey returned to their room to pack a small bag, ignoring how her hands shook. 

When Jamia returned, she pulled a greasy rag from the pocket of her pinafore. "In case of squeaky hinges," she murmured. 

"You are a genius," Lindsey said and kissed her cheek. 

"Did you pack?" Jamia murmured. 

"For us both, except for any trinkets you want, dear heart," Lindsey said. Jamia nodded and went to her desk, taking out a few things - a small book, a pouch of jewelry, a sheaf of letters. Jamia seemed confident that her uncle would be able to effect the return of their things once they'd spoken with him, but neither of them wanted to leave certain things to chance. Lindsey could just see the letter from Minchin, _I am terribly sorry to tell you that some of the items requested are nowhere to be found._

"We should dress as much as we can while we still have full light," Jamia said after she finished tucking her things into the bag. 

"Under our dressing gowns," Lindsey agreed. "The shirts and trousers, at least. And dear heart, I should bind your breasts. You may need to get used to it." 

Jamia grimaced, but moved to unbutton the high collar of her school blouse. Lindsey retrieved the strips of cloth she cut from inside her pillow case and was ready when Jamia had her blouse off. Lindsey could not quite meet her eyes, despite having shared a room with her for three years. "Give me your hand," she murmured instead, guiding Jamia to hold the end of the fabric and making the first wrap. 

She tried to keep her eyes steady on her hands, but that made her cheeks heat a bit as well, and there was nothing to do but continue. When she tucked the final bit of fabric under the bindings and stepped back, she noticed Jamia's face was flushed pink. _Just the warmth of the room,_ she told herself and handed Jamia her shirt. 

Lindsey had cut another strip of fabric for herself, though it was not quite so necessary, and she nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt Jamia's fingers helping to hold the cloth. She dressed herself quickly after the binding was on, then pulled a high-necked nightgown over the lot. Jamia did the same and they turned down their lamp and waited for the room inspection. 

It seemed an interminable wait. Finally, the knock on the door came. It was Minchin. Lindsey swallowed and chorused, "Good evening, Miss Minchin," with Jamia. 

Minchin looked them both up and down like they were something the cat had dragged in, but that was normal for her. She scolded Jamia for a few papers left scattered on her desk but otherwise had no comment for either of them aside from, "Get to bed now." 

"Yes, Miss Minchin," they replied and carefully put out the lamps and got under the covers. Minchin closed the door behind her and they both breathed sighs of relief. 

"Now to wait," Lindsey whispered. They could not wait as long as would make Lindsey feel comfortable, because they had to be well away from the school before it grew too late to see them safely to an inn. It was only midnight when they slipped on their waistcoats and jackets, grabbed their valise and shoes in hand and snuck out of their room. Lindsey had her skeleton key clutched tight in her free hand and breathed a sigh of relief when it opened the door out of the dormitories. 

Jamia took over once they were out in the gardens, leading them from tree to tree to a small garden gate that opened up onto the back lane. It was a long, dark walk to the main road, but they didn't dare light a lantern. They clutched each other's hands as they walked, neither daring to breathe a word to each other until they were well away from the grounds. Once they were on the main road, they walked toward the market. Hopefully they could hire a coach to take them to the next town. 

The square was fairly bustling, even at a late hour. "Of course," Lindsey said. "Market day." She led the way behind the inn to the livery stables. "Oi," she called out gruffly to a sleepy stable boy. "Me an' my little brother missed the wagon home. Got anything going out Whiteford way tonight?" 

The stable boy just yawned until she flipped a coin at him. "I'll fetch a coachmen," the boy said and disappeared. Lindsey clutched the valise tight and they waited. 

"Got a coach if you can pay," a voice boomed. He sounded like he just came from the pub. He probably did. 

"How much?" Jamia asked and then she bargained him down. Lindsey could only stare in awe at her bravery. Once the coachman was on his box, Jamia stood up and redirected him. "Up the Cambridge road, good man, and there's a bonus in it for you." 

He just grunted, and they seated themselves inside, huddled together on the bench. The road was bumpy and the driver was certainly not driving a straight line particularly well and would periodically burst into song. It made Lindsey laugh more than anything. When she wasn't clutching Jamia for dear life. 

"This is most assuredly not safe," Jamia said. 

"The horse knows the road. We can hope," Lindsey replied. "We're youths, remember? We fear nothing." 

"Jolly good," Jamia murmured, nails digging into Lindsey's arm as the coach hit a deep rut. They finally reached the first town. Lindsey didn't have any idea what time it was, or really where she was, but she was so relieved to get out of the carriage and to see an inn she almost cried. Then she almost cursed Jamia, who paid the driver, then led Lindsey _away_ from the inn and down the high street. She didn't stop until the third inn, then shooed Lindsey inside to get a room while she stood outside and watched the road. 

"We weren't magically followed all this way?" Lindsey murmured as she came back outside. 

"We have a room?" Jamia asked airily. 

"Yes, you minx," Lindsey muttered, tugging her inside. When the door was closed and bolted behind them, they both breathed sighs of relief. 

"One more coach ride in the morning - a long one - and we'll be to Uncle Brian's," Jamia said.

"Well and good," Lindsey replied. "Let's get these clothes off. I wager I'd like boy's clothes more if I could breathe more easily." 

"I was gentle with you," Jamia protested. "Think how I must feel. Though it is another part of my anatomy that protests most strongly, after that coach ride." 

"Is it?" Lindsey asked, lips twitching. Jamia crossed her arms over her chest. 

"I was going to say my teeth had been rattled loose by the ruts in the road." 

"Of course you were," Lindsey replied, giggling. Soon Jamia joined her and they both collapsed on the bed amid waves of stifled laughter.

Lindsey's hat fell off, and Jamia pulled hers off and tossed it on the floor. They ended up with their arms wrapped tightly around each other, laughing until they were spent. "We did it, Jamia," Lindsey said, voice full of wonder. She couldn't quite believe it. She turned and propped herself up on her elbow and beamed down at Jamia. " _We did it_. Thanks to you." 

"Don't thank me yet, we haven't made it all the way," Jamia said, but she grinned back. 

"We will," Lindsey replied confidently. She reached out and cupped Jamia's cheek in her hand, ran her thumb over the corner of Jamia's mouth. "We will." It felt - daring, which was not at all the same as feeling _wrong_ \- and Lindsey waited for Jamia to laugh, or push her over, or any of the other familiar little gestures she'd grown to expect. She did not expect Jamia to just lie there and look up at her with big, dark, solemn eyes. But that was what Jamia did.

Lindsey leaned down and pressed her lips against Jamia's cheek, just next to her mouth. Jamia did push her over then, but instead of moving away, she moved closer. She slung her trouser-clad leg over Lindsey's and leaned in for a proper kiss. A kiss that started out sweet and lovely and grew into the sort that had them gasping for breath and clutching each other, lips and tongues exploring in ways they'd never dare to at school. 

Lindsey had been kissed a time or two, over the holidays. At dances. And she knew Jamia had been kissed before, by some little neighbor boy she'd had a flirtation with years ago. And she could not deny that many kisses that ended on Jamia's cheek or forehead had, in Lindsey's own fevered imagination, been intended for her lips. But she'd never had the nerve. Until this night, this moment.

Lindsey wrapped her arms around Jamia's neck and they kissed until Jamia gasped, "I can't breathe like this anymore." 

Lindsey pushed Jamia up. "Then let's get that off you," she murmured and reached for the buttons of Jamia's jacket. "You do look rather smart in these clothes. But I'd rather see your true form." 

Lindsey unbuttoned Jamia's jacket, waistcoat, and shirt and pushed the whole mess off her shoulders and over her head. Jamia licked her lips and watched, a faint smile playing around her mouth. But Lindsey could tell she was holding her breath. Unwrapping the strip of linen made Lindsey's face go every bit as hot as wrapping it had, and she could see that Jamia was blushing too. Lindsey ran the backs of her knuckles down the flushed skin, across the bumps of Jamia's collarbones, the red marks left by the tight wrapping, and, daringly, over the curve of Jamia's breast to her nipple. Only then did she flick her eyes back up to Jamia's face.

Jamia had her lip between her teeth and her eyes trained on Lindsey. Lindsey reached out to cup Jamia's breasts in her hands and leaned forward again to kiss her. Jamia arched up into her hands and moaned quietly into her mouth. Lindsey pulled back and moved her hands to Jamia's hair. "You're so beautiful," she murmured and started pulling the pins carefully from Jamia's hair. Lindsey watched as it tumbled down around her shoulders and over her chest. She traced the dark strands around the curve of Jamia's breast, watching as the nipple stiffened into a tight pink bud. "I want - may I -" 

"Please, touch me," Jamia whispered.

Lindsey let her fingers wander. She explored Jamia's breasts with care, watching her reaction to various touches. She leaned down and brushed her lips softly along the sides like she did her fingers and Jamia shivered. "So, so beautiful," she repeated. Encouraged by Jamia's shiver, she ran her tongue along the underside, pressed it gently against the nipple, then moved to the other and did it again. Jamia whimpered and wrapped a hand around the back of her neck, tugging Lindsey back up to kiss her again.

Jamia moved her hands up to Lindsey's neck and her fingers tried to sneak into Lindsey's hair, but she was thwarted by the pins still there. She laughed and cupped Lindsey's cheeks to kiss her. "Your turn, my dear." Jamia pulled the pins from Lindsey's hair slowly and carefully and put them in the pile with the pins from her own hair. When she was done, she laced her fingers into Lindsey's hair and pulled her in for a kiss. It didn't last long before Jamia was scrabbling at the buttons of her jacket and waistcoat and tugging the shirt up over her head. She smoothed her fingers over the cloth wrapped around Lindsey's breasts and reached for the end she had tucked in hours earlier. 

"Lindsey," she whispered when the strip of cloth fell away, "You are so lovely. So many times I just get... caught up, watching you." 

"Why has it taken us three years to do this?" Lindsey asked softly, biting her lip and breathing in through her nose as Jamia traced the cage of her ribs, then ran gentle thumbs over her nipples, both at once. She knew one answer - they'd have certainly been expelled if they had been caught. But the more Jamia's hands caressed her, the more daring she felt. Lindsey moved to lay against the pillows and pulled Jamia with her, touched her mouth to Jamia's and enjoyed the feeling of their breasts pressed together. 

She wanted more, though. Wanted Jamia's fingers in more places, wanted to touch her like she had only ever touched herself when very alone. 

"I was too afraid," Jamia whispered in her ear. "Certain it... wasn't proper." 

"None of this is proper," Lindsey answered, sucking in a breath as Jamia nipped at her earlobe. "When did we decide to care what was proper?"

"But what if _you_ thought it improper? That would be terrible," Jamia said and trailed her lips down Lindsey's neck. 

"You are in luck, because I do not," Lindsey replied and wrapped her arms around Jamia. She let her hands smooth down Jamia's back and rest at the small, just above the waistband of the trousers. "Let's agree," she said, hooking her thumbs in the band, "That the only opinions that matter are our own. And my opinion," Lindsey whispered, "Is that it is you, dear heart, and you always please me." 

"Take these trousers off now," Jamia ordered throatily. "That would please me." It was not such a simple proposition as that, though, because there were the ill-fitting shoes, and many awkward buttons, and they bumped arms and elbows several times before Lindsey finally made the naughty discovery that Jamia had utterly neglected drawers.

Jamia blushed. "I was hurrying and didn't want to waste time with them." 

"Imagine if you did the same when wearing a gown," Lindsey whispered and slid her hand over Jamia's belly, down over her hair and slipped two fingers between her folds to stroke over the button of flesh that made Lindsey gasp every time she touched it on herself.

Jamia obliged her with a gasp and with two very desperate hands, wrapping tight in Lindsey's hair as she arched her back. "Oh," she breathed. "Nothing proper ever felt so good. More."

Lindsey moved her fingers back. Jamia was slick and Lindsey explored with her fingers, sliding them around and slowly inside. Jamia took a deep, ragged breath and Lindsey pulled them out and pushed them slowly back in. Jamia whimpered in her ear. 

"Have you ever touched yourself like this?" Lindsey asked softly. She had, in her lonely bedroom at home. On a few breathless occasions, in their shared room when she'd been quite alone, with her heart pounding and her ears perked for Jamia's unanticipated return.

"Not…" Jamia gasped as Lindsey slid her fingers back that first place she touched. "Not really. A little. But not… not like this. Oh, _Lindsey_." Lindsey smiled and leaned down to kiss Jamia as she rubbed circles over the nub of flesh. She was so warm, and so wet, and moaning and writhing even as her tongue tangled with Lindsey's. 

"Shh," Lindsey breathed, kissing down her neck, rubbing a little harder when Jamia pressed her hips up, finally closing her lips around one puckered nipple and suckling as she pushed her fingers back inside. Lindsey heard a stifled moan and glanced up to see Jamia biting down on one of her fingers in an attempt to keep quiet. Lindsey kept sucking, kept moving her fingers inside Jamia, and up and back down again, over and over until Jamia's body stiffened and her back arched and she couldn't hold back the moan that escaped her.

Lindsey shifted her fingers to Jamia's hip, rubbing soothing circles with her thumb as Jamia's body relaxed. Jamia tightened a hand in Lindsey's hair and dragged their mouths back together. "My - beautiful - Lindsey," she panted between kisses. "My turn, mine." 

She rolled them over, fumbling with Lindsey's drawers. Lindsey helped her shove them down her legs, but Jamia didn't start there. She started with her mouth wrapping around one of Lindsey's nipples and sucking. Lindsey still felt it between her legs. Jamia grabbed her shoulders, burying her face between Lindsey's breasts and licking the skin. Her knee pressed tight against Lindsey's mound, and she rubbed herself shamelessly against it. 

"Jamia," she moaned. Lindsey's body felt amazing with Jamia's pressed against hers. Jamia moved her leg and started kissing her way down Lindsey's body. 

"Shall I kiss you here too?" Jamia asked breathlessly. 

"Oh. Oh, Jamia, I -" The words strangled in her throat as Jamia's fingers parted her folds, lips touching her sensitive flesh. When Jamia slid her tongue over Lindsey, her hands flew to Jamia's head and stroked through her hair. Jamia brought the fingers of her other hand up and slid them into Lindsey's wetness. When she drew them out, she licked experimentally at her fingers. Lindsey gasped her name, and Jamia looked up and smiled. 

"I like you like this," she said. "All spread out and full of pleasure. You're beautiful." 

Lindsey could only whimper. Jamia leaned back down and started exploring Lindsey's folds with her tongue, thoroughly and carefully. It was just exactly how Jamia did everything, and it filled Lindsey with a rush of affection even as it took her breath away. Lindsey's skin was tingling with sensations. "Your fingers," Lindsey gasped out. "Can you?" 

Jamia pushed her fingers slowly inside Lindsey. "Like this?" she asked coyly. 

"Yes," Lindsey moaned. "You're an awfully quick study." 

"I want you to feel - how I did," she whispered against Lindsey's coarse dark curls, then leaned down to suck gently on that most sensitive spot. Lindsey bucked up against her mouth. She couldn't help it, but Jamia moved with her and kept sucking, all the while she slid her fingers in and out of Lindsey. Lindsey felt that pulsing, tightening sensation that she knew meant she was close to the edge, and she ran her fingers through Jamia's thick, silky hair, touching her cheeks and neck and forehead, whispering her name. 

Jamia sucked hard as she moved her fingers faster and soon Lindsey found release. She arched up again and shoved her fingers into her mouth to stop her shout. Jamia slid up her front, crushing their mouths together. "You are beautiful," she murmured between kisses. 

"So are you," Lindsey replied. "So, so beautiful." Lindsey wrapped her arms tight around Jamia and held her close, one hand carding through her hair. "I am so lucky to have you, dear heart," she murmured after a little while. "And so lucky to be able to sleep like this tonight." 

"I want it every night," Jamia admitted. 

"You may have it whenever you wish it, whenever it's possible," Lindsey promised. Jamia shifted them around so they were on their sides, looking at each other, but still pressed together, legs tangled. 

"I will hold you to the promise," Jamia said. 

"Good," Lindsey murmured, kissing her again, as slow and gentle as the first time. 

They fell asleep curled together like that, and woke up the next morning to the noises of the inn. Lindsey wasn't about to leave their little room before she tasted Jamia like Jamia had her the night before. Jamia didn't resist the idea, and they were both smiling like fools as they donned their male disguises once again and went in search of a coach to Cambridge. 

Lindsey was still nervous, but Jamia's calm presence by her side, and the occasional glancing brush of her gloved fingers against Lindsey's wrist, did much to soothe her. They were lucky enough to secure a coach to themselves again, and this ride was much more gentle; both of them drifted off propped against each other.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Gerard hardly even knew what words were coming from his mouth. The men in front of him were smiling and nodding, so in truth, he didn't much care, either. An impoverished lordling such as himself had one function in life, and that was to be an amusing party guest. Gerard was very, very good at that function. But it wasn't the only thing he was good at. Well, at that very moment it was Mikey being good at it, but Gerard liked switching off. Mikey was adroit at the social game as well, and taking turns acting the wit kept things interesting and ensured both of them were well-known in Town and in the country. 

Mikey should be well away by now, back at the carriage. Gerard wrapped up his story and led the gale of laughter at the punch line, then feigned a dry throat and left the group to find a drink of some sort. Mostly, he wanted to be on the edges of the crush so he could quietly slip out and meet Mikey. This was the only time he was grateful for their impoverished state. Their financial troubles were well-known, their title utterly nonexistant, and there were no mothers pushing their pretty daughters his way. 

There were always one or two widows making more-or-less subtle overtures, though. And the occasional gentleman. Sometimes Gerard would let either sort lead him to an empty room for a more personal type of diversion, but mostly he avoided such dalliances. There was really only one person he wanted and that was an impossible desire. 

The party was in full swing - and the champagne was in full flow - so collecting his coat and escaping to the carriage line was quite painless. Gerard hailed the driver and tapped on the door. When Mikey tapped back from inside, Gerard swung himself up onto the step and instructed the driver to take them to one of the coffeehouses down by the university. They'd walk home from there, or hire another hack, but they had business to attend to first. 

"You took your time," Mikey said when Gerard shut the door behind him. "Did that Mrs. Featherwick corner you again?"

Gerard grimaced. "No. Apparently people liked my stories this time." 

"You tell good stories," Mikey said as they rode toward the coffeehouse. Gerard shrugged and smiled. They came to a stop and Gerard trailed Mikey into the coffeehouse. This was always Mikey's favorite part of their activities and Gerard tried not to interfere too much in it. 

Their fence was already waiting at a table tucked away in the corner farthest from the stage, where the rowdiest of the students liked to put on amateur theatrical readings. It was good fun to watch sometimes, and also the din was good cover. When Miss Simmons spotted them, she signaled to the waitress and two coffees showed up at the table at approximately the same time as Gerard and Mikey did. 

"Hello, Miss Simmons," Gerard greeted her. 

"Hello, Alicia," Mikey said.

Mikey sat in the chair next to Miss Simmons and smiled at her. She smiled back and Gerard knew they were holding hands under the table. "Did we meet our objectives, gentlemen?" she asked. 

"Without even a hiccup," Mikey replied. He reached into his pocket and Gerard saw the glint of the key he passed her before she tucked it away into her reticule. 

"You have everything else set up for the retrieval?" Gerard asked. He knew better than to question Miss Simmons, and he'd asked for additional assistance with this job for a reason, but he really preferred working with fewer middlemen. Miss Simmons raised one sculpted eyebrow at him. 

"It will be taken care of as we discussed, Mr. Way. And your cut will arrive as usual."

"I wasn't worried," Gerard said. Miss Simmons gave him a look. "Not any more than I am _always_ worried about this venture," he hastened to add. "I was merely asking, in case you needed any kind of assistance." 

They had been lucky to find Miss Simmons when they did; grieving, mired in debt, and nervous about the increasingly frightening demands of the less savory of his father's creditors, Gerard had gone to the proprietor of his preferred gambling hell - a man who'd become an unlikely friend after Gerard's own ill-fated foray into the world of gambling - and begged for advice.

Dewees had been blunt. He'd told Gerard to just give in and give up because they would not stop until they had what they wanted. And then he'd lowered his voice and said, "You can't fight these men now, Gerard, but after you've settled the debts.... Well, there are many possibilities." 

"What do you mean, James?" Gerard had asked.

Dewees had just crossed his arms over his chest and said, "We never had this conversation." A week or so later, Miss Simmons had called at their townhouse.

"Mr. Dewees told me you needed a new maid," she had said. They didn't. They could barely afford the one they had. Gerard had invited her in anyway, because he trusted Dewees.

"We don't need a new maid," he'd told her when he'd led her into his office. 

"Good, because I'm not a maid. I work with Mr. Dewees on certain... sensitive undertakings. I understand your father put you into a bit of a situation, and I can help get you out of it."

"We managed to get ourselves out of it," Gerard had said mildly, though his stomach churned at the very reminder of his depleted coffers. 

"And now you're poor as me," she'd said bluntly. "I can help with that." 

"How?" Gerard had asked. 

"Do I really need to spell it out for you?"

"I think you'd better," Gerard had replied. She'd rolled her eyes, but he had, in the end, been caught by her explanation of how, exactly, he could revenge himself on the men who'd been fleecing his father. And how easy it would be. And, after a while, how addictive it was.

Miss Simmons and Dewees took care of the practical end of things, and Gerard knew they both kept a cut but he did not begrudge them. He and Mikey did not keep the majority of their cut of what they stole, just enough to live on and enough to save a bit; they always chose a worthy charity upon which to bestow an anonymous donation. Mikey called it their Robin Hood portion. Gerard was often tempted to make it in the name of the person they'd stolen from, but decided against it, if only because those they were stealing from didn't _deserve_ for anyone to think well of them. 

Even now, two years later, they'd never been caught - they'd come heartstoppingly close more times than Gerard liked to think about - and they still only kept two servants, their cook/housekeeper and their butler/valet. It was practically a game, now, identifying the unworthies in London high society and relieving them of a few valuables and then moving on. Always moving on.

Gradually, they had managed to target most of their father's business partners and creditors; some other victims were suggested by Miss Simmons on one of her visits, and Gerard, despite knowing what she did for a living, never actually questioned her judgment. They had one mark in particular left, but he was proving difficult to access. Gerard didn't mind. There were times when he missed their old life. Missed his room at the manor, missed the library and all the other trappings, but most of the time he felt he had accepted their new lot in life rather well. Barring one detail. Gerard watched his brother whisper in Miss Simmons' ear, watched a smile curve the corners of her mouth at whatever she was hearing, and thought of Frank.

Bright, beautiful Frank who used to smile at Gerard like that. Their affair made all others pale in comparison. Even now, two years on, Gerard had little desire for anyone else. Last he'd heard of Frank, he'd gone out to his family's country estate and buried himself in the library. More than one society mama had bemoaned his apparent disinterest in marrying. Once, it had been an opinion they had shared. Not that Gerard particularly wanted to marry now, but he knew marrying the right person would be a very effective way of solving most of his problems. He could never bring himself to actually pursue anyone.

He and Mikey would be comfortable for a while, if they continued to live frugally, and Gerard was more and more certain he was ready to abandon their current pursuits. After just one final mark. Then, perhaps.... He sighed. No, Frank wouldn't take him back. He'd burned those bridges thoroughly, and the initial problem remained. Frank's reputation was excellent. Supporting Gerard _and_ Mikey could only hurt him. No, Frank would marry a fine young woman and settle down and forget all about Gerard, if he hadn't already. Gerard could not help but hope he hadn't.

Gerard realized he'd been lost in thought for a long time. He drained the last of his coffee and looked at Mikey. "I'm going home," he said. 

"Don't wait up," Mikey replied, with an arch look at Miss Simmons. That at least was entirely expected. 

"I'll keep my ears open for opportunities," Miss Simmons told him, and Gerard nodded and tossed down a few coins for the coffees. 

He pulled his coat collar up around his neck and walked the whole way back to their townhouse. It was chilly inside; they'd closed up most of the rooms, but were still sparing with the coal even so. But he knew Simon would have lit a small fire in his grate before retiring, so he hurried upstairs.

His room was much warmer and he shed his outer layers before sitting at his writing desk. He pulled out a piece of paper, dipped his pen in ink, and began to write. 

_Dearest Frank,_

_Today was long and somewhat trying, but Mikey and I achieved what we hoped to. You know I hate those parties full of dull, awful people. Usually there's at least one interesting person in attendance, but there was no one tonight. Eliza Featherwick continues to pursue me. It was Damien Clark before that, and I know not who it will be once I've rebuffed Mrs. Featherwick. I seem to have inadvertently cultivated a reputation. Oh, I admit at first it was deliberate. But I've changed, my love. I think if I only had you, I wouldn't need the thrills anymore. Any of them. Of all of my regrets..._

_I miss you. I always miss you. Every hour of every day I miss you. I know that even if I begged you, rightly you would not take me back. That is what I regret the most._

_Yours always, Gerard_

He sighed and watched as the ink went from shiny to dull, then folded it and put it in the bottom drawer of his desk with all the other letters. He wasn't sure why he continued to write them, knowing they would never be sent. He never even let himself reread them. They were just... there, silently chronicling his thoughts. His wants. His loss. Mikey would probably tell him he needed to stop writing them, but he felt somewhat inexplicably that he could not. Gerard put his pen away and put his nightshirt on. The bed was turned down and ready and he fell into it, suddenly exhausted beyond reason. He was glad they had nothing planned for the next day. He wanted to do nothing more than stay in his room and draw. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Frank sprawled in an armchair in front of his library hearth and stared into the flames. A tumbler of whiskey to swirl would just about complete the tableau, he thought with a laugh. Then he actually got up to pour one, just as his butler announced Ray Toro. 

"Ray, my friend," Frank said with a grin when he entered the room. Ray smiled back. 

"Hello, Frank. I hope all is well." 

"As well as it ever is," Frank replied and handed Ray a tumbler of whiskey. "Cambridge missed you. How was London? Did Sir Brian's petition succeed?" 

Ray laughed. "He would have better luck in the Lords if he'd take up his own seat. And I missed Cambridge as well." 

Frank noted with amusement that Ray was blushing. "Raymond Toro, have you been keeping news from me?" Frank asked gleefully. 

"For there to be news, it is generally understood that something must happen," Ray replied, but he flushed deeper. 

"Very well, Ray, what didn't happen?" 

"I've been fencing at the club of late and have met several interesting people, one with whom I now have a standing session every other day," Ray replied. "It has been astonishingly diverting." 

"In what way?" Frank asked carefully. "Who is he?" 

"I don't know his name," Ray said. "Just that he is an excellent sparring partner and very amusing." 

"You could ask his name, you know," Frank pointed out. 

"I could not. He will not remove his mask. I fear that - some of our conversation may have gone beyond the bounds of -" Ray stopped, cheeks flaming. Ah. Frank understood. "It was improper. Clearly he will not risk discovery." 

"I wish I had advice," Frank said gently. "It's easier when the person is known to you." 

"There is no one else I can confide in," Ray told him, sipping at his whiskey. "But you - you've never said anything in particular, but -" 

"I've been in love twice," Frank said meditatively, "A first love, a girl I once knew, sweet and harmless." 

"And the other?" Ray asked quietly. 

"The other was also sweet. And not even a little bit harmless," Frank replied. "It was... everything." 

"Was, not is," Ray commented. "This is why you've never married? I apologize if you feel I am prying." 

"It was Gerard," Frank said as if that would explain anything at all. Judging from the look on Ray's face, perhaps it did. 

"I'm sorry, Frank," Ray said. 

"That is what love is, so my library tells me," Frank replied. "And as you can guess, it has been over for a long time. But thank you. Now, as for you, how long has this been going on?" 

"A few weeks," Ray said. "Perhaps six sessions. I didn't think at first - then some things were said - and now, he will not let me see his face, yet he still returns to fence with me. Only me, he tells me."

Frank studied Ray. "Perhaps your best course of action is to wait. Perhaps your friend wants to be sure of you." 

"Perhaps I want to be sure of me," Ray said. "I've never felt this way before, about anyone." 

"And... forgive me, but is the fact that it's a man... unexpected?" Frank asked. It was certainly unexpected to him. His friend always enjoyed dancing with beautiful ladies and Frank never noticed him so much as glancing at other gentlemen. 

"A bit," Ray admitted, in a tone that suggested 'a lot'. "But I... The way he talks to me. I can't. It doesn't matter. I think, perhaps, he is very young. Which makes me look even more foolish. A man of my age, fencing like an amateur with university boys." Ray was always sensitive about the areas in which his upbringing had been lacking. 

"You're better than me," Frank said lightly. "University boys are better than me." Frank had always been a sickly boy, which Ray, and Gerard, and his other old schoolfriends had all known. Running wild in London in their early twenties, drinking and gambling and visiting the music halls and pleasure gardens, it had been great fun while it lasted, but Frank's health had never been so good as these past two years in the country. He supposed he had Gerard to thank for that, in a way. _I'd rather have you,_ he told Gerard silently. Bitterly. Even now. He hadn't seen Gerard since they parted the last time. But he'd heard tales. Most of them were perfectly pleasant accounts, but they weren't the Gerard he knew. Frank knew he was straying into brooding territory again. 

He was quiet for a moment, and Ray took the opportunity to ask, "What are you doing with yourself these days, Frank?" 

"Research," Frank answered. "I've been riding out to speak with the tenants. Father put me in charge of hiring a new estate manager, and the fellow wants to try some new crop techniques." 

"So you're managing to keep busy," Ray replied. "And how are the dogs?" 

Frank grinned. "They're doing well! The latest litter is six weeks now and starting to ween." Frank could admit the puppies were one of his great joys. "I've had good reports from some of the new owners, but I'm still working on refining the bloodline. I have nineteen dogs still in the kennel right now." 

Ray chuckled at him and Frank said, "What, am I so amusing?" 

"You are a proper country gentleman, Frank, that's all. What do your parents have to say? I feel as if it's been a year since I've seen them?"

"They prefer London," Frank replied. "Mother would like to see me married, I'm sure. And both of them would like me to host more functions and the like if I'm to be here being the face of the family. I'm sure I'll schedule something soon to appease them." 

"Well, you can count on my attendance," Ray promised.

"I would rather come visit you at Sir Brian's estate," Frank admitted. "I enjoy his company much more than that of anyone else in the district." Frank always had. He'd spent summers here as a child, and even then the May estate had been a preferred destination. 

Even more so when Sir Brian's young niece had been in residence. Frank allowed himself to think of her fondly for a moment. His first love, his first kiss. They'd spent one memorable summer sneaking out to meet each other in the woods where the May and Iero properties abut. It was all terribly innocent and sweet. He hadn't seen her in several years. 

Frank was not precisely innocent anymore, and he did not know if he was still capable of being sweet. He felt much older than his years, sometimes, and he knew that was his own choice. He'd retreated to the country and taken over the estate, and if he still felt that he'd rather spend the rest of his days buried in his library, well, perhaps he should. 

"Come visit any time," Ray said, interrupting his thoughts. "Sir Brian is very fond of you. And he has quite a large collection of volumes on animal husbandry." 

Frank laughed. "You know just how to tempt me out of my den, Ray."

"I shall be sure to call on him in the coming days," Frank promised. When Ray departed, Frank sat back in his chair and looked around the room. Most men his age were on the continent, or gadding about London and meeting pretty girls. None of it held any appeal for Frank. 

He sighed and rang for his valet. "Could you bring me my jacket, Matthew? I think I'll go out to see the dogs."

He walked through the stables, stopping to give his horse, Shelley, an apple and letting himself into the kennels at the far end.

The din of yapping dogs greeted him and he smiled. He went the larger stall containing the bitch and her pups and slipped inside. Immediately the pups clambered over the straw and circled his feet happily. Frank grinned and leaned down to scoop two of them up. Yes, this was the best part of every day.

"Look how fat you're getting," he cooed to the smaller of the two. The runts were always his favorites, and this one looked like she was going to do just fine. "Mama, your pups are beautiful." 

He tossed a strip of jerky to her and she snapped it up happily, then came over to nose around his pockets for more. He scratched behind her ears, then sat down on a hay bale and began inspecting the puppies one by one. They all looked healthy, and should fetch good prices. He hated selling them. It had to be done, though. Despite being, as Ray teased earlier, a country gentleman, not even Frank could justify keeping that many dogs for no purpose. He did hate that they were often used to hunt weasels and the like, but more families were keeping them as pets and that pleased him.

He would write to a friend of his up north and discuss stud services, he decided. That would give him a project to occupy him through the winter months.

 

*~*~*~*

As the carriage drew closer to Cambridge and Uncle Brian's expansive estate, Jamia felt more and more relieved. They had _done_ it. When the coach pulled up in front of Uncle Brian's large manor house, Jamia grinned and hopped out, Lindsey close behind her. She paid the driver and as he drove toward the stables to get a little grain for his horses, Jamia pulled off her hat and removed the pins from her hair. 

She rang the bell at the door and the old butler Jenkins merely raised an eyebrow when he saw them. "Miss Jamia, we weren't expecting you. I'll take you to your uncle."

"I wish we could have changed," Lindsey whispered as they walked.

Jamia squeezed her hand, but stayed silent. If she knew Uncle Brian like she thought she did, he would be the one to put her at ease. 

When they were showed into Uncle Brian's study, he looked Jamia up and down and asked with a twinkle in his eye, "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, dearest niece?"  
"We ran away," she replied honestly.

"In disguise? I am somehow unsurprised. Who is your friend, dear?" 

"Lindsey Ballato," Jamia answered, and Lindsey made a little curtsey, despite her trousers. "My roommate at school." 

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Ballato. I do hope you'll be comfortable here." 

"You're not sending us back, then?" Jamia asked. 

"I know you, dear, and you wouldn't do such a thing without a reason. Let me ring for tea and you can explain."

They sat down and waited for tea. Uncle Brian asked after news of Jamia's parents and she told him what she knew, which wasn't much. When the tea arrived and had been poured, Uncle Brian gestured for her to start the story. She knew total honesty was the best way with her uncle and she hoped Lindsey wouldn't be too cross with her for it. 

"The new headmistress, Miss Minchin, is awful," Jamia said. "And she decided that Lindsey is unsuitable for the school." 

"For what reason? I'm sure no niece of mine would be friends with anyone who was truly unsuitable," Uncle Brian said.

"My father was foreign and of low birth," Lindsey said quietly. "Which is, coincidentally, the same reason my stepfather insisted on me being sent off to school in the first place. He wanted me conveniently out of sight." 

"And the other girls at school were cruel to her as well. It was too much to countenance," Jamia added. "But Miss Minchin was fairly certain I was unsuitable for the school as well. I - was in trouble nearly every day."

"No doubt for defending your dear friend, at least in part," he said with a smile. 

"She did. Often," Lindsey said. 

"Then I certainly shan't make you return. To go back would most certainly mean things would be worse," he said. Jamia could hear the tiny sigh of relief Lindsey released.

"And your charming garb?" he asked lightly. 

"There wasn't enough time to write and ask anyone to come help, especially with Father and Mum on the Continent... somewhere. They left me with plenty of money. But you know that is their typical solution," Jamia said, a little sadly. Uncle Brian looked sad too.

"I shall write the appropriate letters. Should you like to finish your studies, I'm sure I can hire a governess for you, though you seem a bit old for a governess," Uncle Brian said. 

"Perhaps a tutor from the university," Jamia suggested, and Uncle Brian snorted. 

"You _are_ looking to cause a scandal, aren't you? But if you wish to further your studies in areas your school would not have done, I shall help you. You are one of the brightest people I know." 

Jamia felt her face flush and she smiled. "We won't be a bit of trouble, Uncle Brian," she promised. 

"I don't believe that for a moment," he teased. "Now, shall I have Mrs. Fairfax take you up and get you settled in? Do you have, ah, a change of clothing?" 

"One each," Jamia replied. "We left everything else at school." 

"I shall see that your belongings are delivered here and send for a dressmaker for the interim, then," he said and rang the bell for Mrs. Fairfax. 

Mrs. Fairfax was also rather elderly, but still sharp, and she loved Jamia. She fussed over them for a few minutes before leading them upstairs to adjoining bedrooms - and offering to draw a bath, which they both also accepted eagerly. They bathed and dressed in their regular clothes. 

As Jamia was finishing her hair, Lindsey slipped through the door between their rooms and wrapped her arms around Jamia's waist. She laid her lips gently at the base of Jamia's neck, like she was testing the motion. Jamia leaned into it. 

"I wanted to come in earlier," Lindsey whispered. 

"You could have," Jamia replied. "I wanted you to." 

"We have to have lunch with your uncle," Lindsey reminded her. "We can wait for tonight, can't we?" 

Jamia laughed. "Perhaps." 

"Your uncle is very kind," Lindsey said. "Very... progressive." 

"He's been known to rant about how scandalous it is that women can't vote at the table," Jamia said. "It horrifies Father. He's also extremely indulgent of me, I admit." 

Lindsey laughed. "That is obvious, dear heart. I am glad. And I am thankful for it. And you. So thankful for you." 

Jamia turned in Lindsey's arms and pressed her lips to Lindsey's. "Everything will be fine now, I promise," she whispered, but Lindsey just leaned back in and teased Jamia's tongue with hers. Jamia gasped into Lindsey's mouth and wrapped her arms around her neck. "Lindsey," she breathed when she pulled back. 

"Lunch," Lindsey whispered. 

"Tease," Jamia whispered back. She could barely comprehend it, this unexpected world of sweetness, of pleasure to which her dear friend had led her. 

"Only a little," Lindsey replied and pulled herself out of Jamia's arms. Lindsey smoothed her hands down the front of her skirt and smiled a coy little smile at Jamia. 

When they went down to lunch they found not only Uncle Brian but his secretary as well - her cousin Ray. Jamia smiled and let him kiss her hand, then tugged him down to kiss his cheek. 

"It's been too long, Ray," she said. 

"Yes, dear cousin," Ray replied with a smile. "And who is your friend, Miss Jamia?" 

"Miss Lindsey Ballato, dear friend and companion," Jamia said, taking Lindsey's hand and pulling her into their conversation. "Lindsey, this is my cousin - how many seconds and removeds is it, Ray? I can never remember. Uncle Brian's secretary. And heir," she said. 

"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Ballato," Ray replied. 

Jamia hadn't seen Ray for ages, of course, and she realized abruptly that Ray would probably be what the family considered a suitable husband for her. She thought perhaps the only reason she hadn't been told so, in so many words, was that her parents weren't there. Not yet. 

Ray held Lindsey's chair, and Uncle Brian Jamia's, and she smiled and filled her plate but her thoughts were far away. _I always knew I was meant to marry. But I do not wish to, not right now. And not Ray._ She swallowed. There was no use thinking if it. Not at the present time. She lifted her head and smiled across the table at Lindsey, and then Uncle Brian. "We can't thank you enough," she said. 

Uncle Brian waved a hand. "Royce and my sister, they serve their country much more ably than they do their daughter. I mislike what I've heard of this school of yours. And I've missed you. So. It is good that you are here." 

"I missed you too, Uncle," she said. "What did Lindsey and I interrupt this morning? What have you been studying lately?" Uncle Brian laughed. 

"You know me well, girl." 

Jamia grinned. "Well?" 

"Astronomy, presently," Uncle Brian replied and talked about the stars and his telescope for the rest of the lunch hour. "I'll take you girls up to look through the telescope one night if you like," he offered.

"Yes, please," Lindsey said excitedly, telling him all about a favorite book of hers about navigation. Jamia just smiled to herself and exchanged grins with Ray on how effortlessly Lindsey had just won over Uncle Brian. Not that winning over Uncle Brian was particularly difficult if you were a decent sort, but he did have his pet subjects that he delighted in talking about with people. 

It was a pleasant afternoon and Uncle Brian allowed them the run of the library. "Should you want anything else for other pursuits, tell Mrs. Fairfax and she will see that supplies are delivered." He also promised to send word to the local dressmaker and have an assistant visit the next day with ready-made garments and to take measurements. He and Ray went off to take care of some business before tea time, and Lindsey and Jamia looked at one another when they found themselves alone once more.

"We're accustomed to rest this time of day," Lindsey said. "Perhaps we should retire to our rooms for a time." 

"I'm not at all tired," Jamia replied. Lindsey made a face at her. 

"You know that is not what I am suggesting, dear heart." 

"Yes," Jamia answered teasingly. "Let's go upstairs." They placed their books on the table and made their way to Jamia's room. Jamia immediately wrapped herself around Lindsey. "Your dress has been distracting me all day," she whispered and ran her fingers over the line of fabric covering Lindsey's breasts. 

"Yours as well. No more ugly uniforms," Lindsey replied. 

"No more. No more room checks. No more kitchen duty. No more of any of it," Jamia murmured and leaned in to kiss Lindsey. Leaned up, more like. Jamia liked the feeling of Lindsey's tall, slim body against hers, the care with which she'd lean down and thread her fingers through Jamia's hair to hold their mouths together. Jamia wanted more. Wanted Lindsey's fingers and her skin and nothing between them. "Come to bed with me. I'll - I suppose I cannot say I've never unlaced you, but -" She took a deep breath. "Oh, just come here so I can." 

Lindsey laughed breathlessly and turned so Jamia could pull her gown off and unlace her stays. Her hands were sure, unlike with the unfamiliar boys' clothing. She kissed the creamy pale skin she uncovered, bit by bit, feeling the wings of Lindsey's shoulder blades, her little shivers. 

Jamia removed Lindsey's shift and circled around to her front again. She traced her fingers over the lines left on Lindsey's breasts left from her bodice and leaned up to kiss her again. She dropped one hand to comb through her curls, finding her wet already. "What's this?" Jamia whispered in her ear. 

"I told you I was distracted," Lindsey replied. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about last night." She laughed a little and reached down the neck of Jamia's gown. "I will wager I am not the only one." 

Her fingers teased Jamia's nipple. Jamia moaned. "No. Wanting you has never been this... I thought I knew what it felt like. Take off my dress. I need you." 

"So bossy," Lindsey murmured. Her hands on Jamia's laces were a sweet torture. Jamia knew she was completely aware of that. Lindsey didn't touch her much until she got Jamia's dress off; then she pushed her against the bed and climbed into her lap. Jamia could feel the damp heat of her and gasped when their breasts pressed together. She'd lost track of how long she'd been having naughty and oh-so-delicious thoughts about her friend. 

Jamia ran her hand up and down Lindsey's back and mouthed her neck and chest. She slid her other hand down over Lindsey's belly and to her folds. That made Lindsey wriggle against her and gasp in her ear. Lindsey tipped Jamia over onto her back and ground down against her fingers, rubbed their chests together. 

"Jamia," Lindsey whispered in her ear and kissed her way from Jamia's ear to her mouth. 

"I want to taste you again," Jamia admitted. 

Lindsey moaned. "Please." 

Jamia gently rolled them over and leaned down to kiss Lindsey before moving down her body. She stopped at Lindsey's breasts, kissed and sucked each one until her nipples were hard and red and then moved down further. Lindsey giggled and squirmed when Jamia kissed her stomach. It made Jamia smile too, but soon her impatience got the best of her and she moved down between Lindsey's legs. Jamia nuzzled her thighs and used her fingers to hold Lindsey's folds apart and leaned in. She licked a stripe through Lindsey's wetness and up to the spot of flesh Jamia knew would make Lindsey gasp. She licked, then sucked, then licked some more, loving the feel of Lindsey's fingers in her hair, rubbing herself against the sheets as she sucked. 

"Ohhhh," Lindsey moaned and thrust her hips up against Jamia's mouth. Jamia looked up Lindsey's body as she sucked and watched as Lindsey pulled one of her hands up to rub her own breast. Jamia couldn't stop thinking about it - her friend, touching herself like this, seeking pleasure on her own. And how glad she was to have a part in it now. She sucked until Lindsey was trembling under her mouth and hands, until she let out a muffled moan and arched up and found release. 

Jamia let the taste flood her mouth, licking gently until Lindsey whimpered and touched her lips. She slid up Lindsey's body. Her legs fell between Lindsey's and she couldn't help but rub herself on Lindsey's thigh and moan into Lindsey's mouth. 

"Yes," Lindsey murmured. "Keep moving, like that." Jamia shifted so their mounds were pressed tight and rolled her hips, kissing Lindsey's mouth, her cheeks, her throat. "Jamia," Lindsey begged. 

She moved her hips harder against Lindsey's. She knew Lindsey was close again and she wanted to tip her over the edge again before asking for Lindsey's fingers. It was almost like dancing, rolling her hips, tugging Lindsey's shoulders to close her lips around a peaked nipple. Lindsey shook and moaned beneath her and her hands clutched at Jamia's sides. 

Jamia moved onto her back and let her legs fall open. She took Lindsey's hand and directed it to her folds. "Please," she murmured. 

"Gladly," Lindsey breathed, and set her fingers to work. They were strong, and clever, and Jamia could barely think. Then Lindsey kissed across her breasts, sucking a mark into the curve, nipping a bit and making Jamia moan, biting a knuckle to muffle the sound. Lindsey slid her fingers down and pushed two inside Jamia while her thumb moved over her most sensitive spot. 

Jamia wondered if it would feel like this, to have a man inside her instead. She thought that perhaps it would have to be a very singular man, one who loved her as much as... She sighed. "Dearest one." 

Lindsey released Jamia's breast from her mouth with a little pop and moved her lips to whisper against Jamia's cheek. "Are you ready, dear heart?" 

"For what?" she gasped. To stop? She never wanted to stop. 

"For your release," Lindsey whispered. 

"No," Jamia gasped back. "Keep going. Don't stop. I want _more_." Lindsey did her best to give it to her, curling into her body, mouthing at the base of her throat and gentling her fingers. When she finally tipped over the edge, the slow buildup made for the most intense sensations she'd felt yet. She shuddered and trembled and Lindsey kept up her slow, gentle strokes. 

"Again," Lindsey whispered. "Once more. Just once." Jamia was breathing hard, panting with exertion. 

"I... Lindsey. Oh, Lindsey," she moaned and arched up thrust down against Lindsey's fingers. "Harder now." 

Lindsey obeyed, giving her fingers a twist, and when they pressed some sensitive spot deep inside Jamia she jerked and arched and came again, hard enough to make her vision blur. It took Jamia several moments before she could think or move. When she could, he grabbed Lindsey and wrapped her arms and her legs around her and held on tight. Lindsey clung back. They did sleep then, both of them, drifting off in the huge bed with its soft coverlets and pillows. 

Jamia woke again to the sound of a clock striking the hour in a nearby room. Lindsey was still in her arms and Jamia wanted nothing more than to stay where they were and see what other pleasures they could discover. But supper was soon and they needed to put themselves back together and make an appearance. She kissed Lindsey a few more times first. 

"We're safe now," she murmured. "We can be happy now." 

"Yes," Lindsey whispered back and kissed her before pulling away and getting up. Jamia followed and helped Lindsey into her stays and her dress and then Lindsey did the same for her. They were quiet, but it was a nice sort of quiet. 

Jamia laughed when she saw the mess of Lindsey's hair and helped her sort that out too. "After supper, we should ask Uncle Brian to play for us. He can play every musical instrument there is," Jamia said, squeezing Lindsey's hand and leading her to the stairs. "And then - bedtime." She let herself smirk a little. 

Lindsey smirked back. "I think I'll enjoy going to bed far more now."

 

*~*~*~*

 

Lindsey hadn't doubted that Jamia's uncle would be kind, but she did not realize how much she would _like_ him herself until she actually met him. She liked his secretary too. Mr. Toro was a very pleasant gentleman, if a busy one. Jamia had perhaps left out the precise details of exactly how brilliant, and influential, and rich her uncle was, and Mr. Toro seemed a worthy heir. 

In all, she was very pleased with the way things had been sorted. Perhaps the Earl had enough influence that her stepfather would not argue. It was perhaps still too soon for a letter to have reached them; either Miss Minchin's surely-inflammatory one, or Sir Brian's attempt at calming the waters. Meanwhile, she and Jamia had been outfitted at least appropriately enough for the time being, and Sir Brian had even dispatched Mr. Toro to town to purchase art supplies when Lindsey had confessed it was her favored pastime. Everything was as close to perfect as it could get. 

Which meant Lindsey was waiting for something to go wrong. 

She thought she might have her answer that afternoon, when the butler, Jenkins, announced a visitor. "Mr. Iero to see you, sir." 

Lindsey watched Jamia's face light up as she asked Sir Brian, "He's at the estate?" 

"Has been for some time now," Sir Brian replied as they all stood. Jenkins showed in a young man. Lindsey estimated he was in his early twenties. He exchanged the proper pleasantries with Sir Brian and then turned a bright smile on Jamia. 

"It has been far too long, Miss Jamia." 

"Since when were you so formal, Frank?" Jamia teased. 

"Since you grew up on me all of a sudden," he answered. Jamia blushed and Lindsey took a deep breath. "And who is this?" he asked, turning to Lindsey. 

"This is my dearest friend, Lindsey Ballato," Jamia said. 

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he said. "How long are you visiting, Jamia?" 

"I'm not certain," Jamia replied. "But long enough that I will be very cross if I don't get to see you again." 

"You'll have to visit me as well. I have puppies." He smiled beatifically. 

"Puppies!" Jamia cried delightedly. 

"If your uncle will allow it, perhaps you could have one of them when they're fully weaned," Frank said. 

Sir Brian laughed. "Apparently I have no ability to say no to my niece." 

"Who ever has?" Frank teased. Lindsey watched Jamia blush again. "You may come choose one whenever you like," Frank said to her. "It is rare that I am out and when I am, it's usually here that I've gone to." 

"That is not the Frank I know," Jamia said, and Frank looked quite sad for a moment before changing the subject. And asking Lindsey questions, which took her aback. By necessity, some of her answers were vague, but he didn't seem put off by it. Lindsey understood why Jamia liked him so. He seemed quite close with Mr. Toro, as well, and all in all it was a pleasant afternoon, had not Lindsey developed a certainty that there was some manner of flirtation going on. She knew she had no claims on Jamia. That was impossible. It still made her stomach churn. 

Jamia took her aside before dinner - to which Frank had been invited, of course - and clasped her hands. "Dearest one, what is troubling you?" 

"Nothing worth mentioning," Lindsey replied. 

"Do you not like Frank?" Jamia asked. 

"He seems perfectly pleasant and a good friend," Lindsey hedged. 

"All true," Jamia said. "I know it is difficult to be plunged into the middle of old friends and family, Lindsey dear, but trust me that you are very much wanted." Her hand traced gently along Lindsey's jaw as she said it. 

Lindsey leaned into Jamia's touch. "I know." She did. It was just much more complicated than knowing that could change. Lindsey resolved to be more engaged with everyone. There was no use making Jamia worry. Besides, that night it would be Lindsey in Jamia's bed, not anyone else. 

*

The next morning at breakfast, Sir Brian told them they could go into town to pick up anything they needed. Lindsey was surprised at how eager she was to go out and see Cambridge. The town was bigger than she expected, and full of university students. It was a nice day and there were knots of pretty girls walking about and talking to the students. 

Lindsey and Jamia went to the dress shop first to retrieve their packages. Afterwards, Lindsey coaxed Jamia into the bookshop, and Jamia paid her back by coaxing her into a tea shop. In the tea shop, they heard a delighted voice call their names. 

"Christa!" Lindsey exclaimed. Christa stood up at the small table where she was sitting and gave them both hugs and kisses on the cheek. 

"Join me, please," she urged them. 

"Of course," Lindsey replied. 

"Why are you in Cambridge?" Christa asked. "I thought you were still at school." 

Lindsey and Jamia looked at each other. "We may have run away," Lindsey admitted. 

"The new headmistress is that bad?" Christa asked, concerned. 

"Worse," Jamia replied darkly. 

"Oh, dear," Christa said. "I hadn't even thought to write to any of you yet." She frowned. "I hate to be glad I finished school, but..." 

"It's good you're done. Everyone is miserable. Unless you're Angelica Kitteredge or her friends," Jamia said. "She's making an effort to cleanse the school." 

"Cleanse?" Christa repeated. "Of what, exactly?" 

"Girls she doesn't think fit her vision for what the school should be," Lindsey replied. "Like me." 

"She's an idiot," Christa said. "And the headmistress lets her have her way, I suppose?" Jamia nods. "Well. All in all I am even more thrilled to see you now." 

"Yes, absolutely," Jamia replied with a bright smile. "We've missed you. And your dramatic readings of the first years' poetry." 

"I have a collection of terrible poetry from the university boys now," Christa told them with a wink. They both laughed. 

"Excellent. You'll have to call on us at my uncle's estate and we can have a session," Jamia said. 

"Yes, of course." 

"I am delighted to see you," Lindsey told her. "You are living with family here, are you not?" 

"I am. I'm governess for my nephews. They are currently in Brighton and I am taking advantage of their absence," Christa replied with a grin. 

"Good girl," Lindsey said. 

"And you will come to us tomorrow?" Jamia asked. 

"I have a... previous commitment tomorrow, but the next?" 

"That will suit," Jamia said. "We have no engagements aside from our own amusement." 

"A worthy cause," Christa replied. "I must go now. But... we will visit the day after tomorrow, then." 

"I'll have the cook make those cakes you're so fond of," Jamia promised, and Christa took their leave. 

"It's wonderful to see her," Lindsey said. "I've missed her." 

"I'd forgotten her family estate was so close," Jamia replied. "You see, dearest? We were meant to come here." 

Lindsey nodded with a smile. "We must have been. Where else should we go before supper?" 

"Let's just walk." 

"Walking sounds lovely," Lindsey replied. When they were on the street, Lindsey linked her arm with Jamia's. "If we were men, we could be walking back to the university now," Lindsey mused. 

"I would like to study many things," Jamia said, "but I don't know if there's anything I would choose to study specifically." 

"I believe your uncle would say it's best to study as many things as possible," Lindsey said with a smile. 

"Indeed," Jamia replied. 

"I would like to study art," Lindsey replied. "I know I can do so on my own in some ways, but I'd like to study more, study deeper." 

"Perhaps we _should_ hire a tutor," Jamia teased. "That one right there would make a decent life model as well." She pointed at a young man walking down the other side of the street. "Hm?" 

"He would," Lindsey replied. "He has an interesting face." 

"And hair," Jamia added. 

"A pity we can't see the body as well," Lindsey said. 

"I wager we could if we asked," Jamia answered pertly. Lindsey laughed. 

"Perhaps he would. But it would be _very_ scandalous." 

"Do we care?" Jamia's eyes were sparkling. 

"Since when are you interested in art?" Lindsey teased. 

"I'm very interested in watching you make it. If there are comely bare youths involved, so much the better." And just like that, Lindsey was wet between the legs. Jamia was incorrigible. 

"Let's go back to the carriage," Lindsey murmured. "We should take our afternoon rest before supper." 

"Smart girl," Jamia said admiringly, fingers caressing the inside of Lindsey's elbow. 

"I have my moments of brilliance," Lindsey replied. 

"Good. I'll expect a full accounting of these ideas of yours at home," Jamia murmured. 

"I will be sure to fully inform you of them all," Lindsey said as they got to their carriage. She was looking forward to it.

 

*~*~*~*

 

"Your father was a good man," Markus said drunkenly. "A fine man." He clapped Gerard on the shoulder. 

Gerard gritted his teeth and tried to keep his face pleasant and attentive. He was positive none of his father's associates knew that his father had kept a second set of books, with investments listed in place of gambling debts. So none of them could know Gerard had figured out exactly where the supposed debt repayments had gone. 

No matter. Markus would soon see himself a little bit lighter. Because his father _had_ been a good man. A much better man than Gerard. And he had always helped when his friends asked. And always gotten burned because his father's friends were liars and cheaters. 

Gerard responded to a young lady's smile by asking her to dance. He liked dancing, and without Mikey here, he needed to make an impression before he disappeared upstairs. He danced and laughed and flirted with several girls and let himself be pulled aside by the second son of a Baron for more laughing and flirting of a more subtle variety. If Gerard didn't intend to disappear soon, he might've let things go further than that. He was only human, after all. And he was lonely, and despite their host, he genuinely enjoyed most of the guests here. It made him feel fleetingly guilty, but he had to steel himself and concentrate on his goal. 

He slipped away in the guise of greeting a friend and crept away from the ballroom and upstairs. He didn't even have to pick any locks, which was convenient, if a somewhat appalling lack of security on Markus' part. The man always was kind if stupid, though. He probably wouldn't even realize he'd been robbed, just assume he'd misplaced things. 

The necklace Gerard pulled out of the cabinet was beautiful even in the dark, but Gerard knew the emeralds would look even more striking in candlelight. Around the throat of a beautiful woman, perhaps. Too bad they couldn't be seen in public until they were re-set. At least after tonight they'd be back in the hands of their rightful owner and not this swindler. Miss Simmons and Mr. Dewees would see to that. 

He met a servant in the hall downstairs who asked if he needed assistance. Gerard affected wide-eyed innocence and said he'd got lost trying to find the library. The servant led him to the room and Gerard peered at the shelves. It was tragically unimpressive as far as libraries go, but Gerard wasn't surprised. He hadn't yet been in a library that came close to the one at the Iero estate. He stayed in the library for a while, flipping through an atlas someone had left open on a table, and he could have crowed with delight when the Baron's son slipped in the door a quarter-hour later. Diversion and alibi in one. 

Gerard crossed his arms and leaned against the table. "Hello," he said with a smirk. 

"I hoped you'd wander off somewhere we could be private," the boy said. Robert, his name was, Gerard reminded himself. 

"Then you'd best shut the door," Gerard replied and watched Robert as he shut the door and walked toward Gerard. He was a university student, fresh-faced and eager. And Gerard would think him impossibly pretty were it not for the fact that he'd known and loved prettier. "And what did you have in mind with all this privacy?" Gerard asked easily, tilting his head and looking Robert up and down. 

"I very much want to kiss you," Robert replied. He had a look on his face that Gerard was familiar with. He knew Robert felt bold and brave and Gerard didn't mind encouraging him where it was relatively safe. He raised an eyebrow. 

"Then I suggest you do so." 

It wasn't bad, as kisses went. Someone had clearly taught Robert a little something about kissing. Gerard set about teaching him a little bit more. It was nice, he thought, to have a mouth against his, another body pressed against him. 

When Robert finally pulled back, Gerard murmured, "Was that all you wanted?" 

"Not remotely," Robert replied breathlessly. 

"Do you need instructions?" Gerard asked. "I'm happy to give them. Or you could take what you want." 

"With your leave," Robert answered, dropping to his knees. 

"Be my guest," Gerard replied and stroked a hand through Robert's hair as he opened Gerard's trousers. 

Robert was clearly less skilled at this activity, but he made a good try, wrapping a hand around Gerard and stroking him to full hardness before licking at the head of his cock. Gerard let out a small moan to encourage him. It seemed to work because he took Gerard in his mouth and started sucking. There was little finesse, but it was a hot, wet mouth around his cock and Gerard didn't mind the lack of skill. He closed his eyes and, like he always did in these situations, imagined the first fumbling touches he shared with Frank. 

Frank had been an innocent too, or nearly, but Gerard had barely had to teach him what to do; from the beginning Frank had driven him absolutely wild. But then, everything about Frank drove Gerard wild. Every bit of him, from the mundane details of his life, to the way his bottom lip looked after Gerard had sucked on it, had been of interest to Gerard. 

Gerard took control of Robert's mouth. He wasn't rough, but he threaded a hand through Robert's hair and guided his head, thrusting into his mouth at a steady pace. Robert was a quick enough study to not resist Gerard's direction and after that they got into a rhythm that was perfect for Gerard. It didn't take him long after that. He tugged on Robert's hair to warn him, and Robert pulled back but not off, spitting discreetly into his handkerchief after Gerard spilled into his mouth. Gerard could not help but think of Frank again, the way he'd swallow Gerard's seed and crush their mouths together afterwards. "Good," he murmured to Robert. "You'll learn in time." Robert sat at his feet a moment longer, panting. "Come here," Gerard said. 

Robert stood and Gerard pulled him close, got his trousers open, and reached into his drawers to wrap a hand around his hard, leaking cock. Gerard smirked and kissed him. He wouldn't last long. Gerard bet it'd be just a few strokes and that would be that. Robert whimpered satisfyingly into Gerard's mouth as Gerard stroked him, and he lasted longer than Gerard had anticipated, long enough for Gerard to twist his hand and flick his thumb up under the head and rub. When Robert clutched his shoulders and pressed his forehead against Gerard's neck and groaned as he came, Gerard gentled his grip, stealing the handkerchief out of Robert's pocket and cleaning off his hand with a teasing grin.

"Perhaps we'll see each other again?" Robert asked as he sorted out his buttons and smoothed his hands over his hair and down his suit. 

"Perhaps," Gerard replied. In reality, he would probably avoid Robert should they encounter each other again, but Robert didn't need to know that. 

They both went back to the ballroom after that, and Gerard made himself melt into the crowd once more, stopping to greet a few more people before making his way to the vestibule and calling for his greatcoat and a carriage. He went to bed almost immediately after walking in the door of his townhouse, thanking the interlude in the library for the extra bit of relaxation. 

He was nevertheless still up before Mikey in the morning, and thus was alone in the breakfast room when Miss Simmons came in and laid a folded newspaper on his plate. "I have a paper," he told her. He had, in truth, but he hadn't looked at it yet. 

"I'm just saving you some time," she replied, tapping an article that was headlined, "Bank Box Theft Mystifies Authorities."

Gerard smirked and read the article. "It wasn't that difficult. I know it's to our advantage that the police are incompetent, but good God." 

Miss Simmons laughed, but there was a bitter edge to it. "Accusations are laid at the feet of the servants first. So when they cannot pin it on any of them, it is suddenly the most baffling thing in the world."

Gerard frowned. "Did anyone lose their employment because of us?"

"No," she assured him. "I've kept track, don't worry. If it ever happens, James will hire them." That was a relief, but it didn't quite make Gerard feel better. 

"I'd been thinking of quitting. Perhaps it should be sooner rather than later. I don't like that we've been the cause of trouble for people." 

"You've weathered your fair share as well," Miss Simmons answered. "But it is your decision, Mr. Way. I know you will not be satisfied if you stop without giving Berwick his comeuppance, though." 

"You know me well, Miss Simmons," he said with a small smile, because it was true. 

"And you ought to know by now that you can call me Alicia... Gerard."

"Alicia, yes," Gerard said with a smile. "I think he'll be the last. It's too bad he's so fond of his den in Cambridge that he hardly comes to London, or we could be done with him already." 

Gerard wasn't really looking forward to going to Cambridge. It wasn't a large enough town for him to blend in to the social circle without meeting someone who knew Frank. Or even Frank himself. And he just didn't know if he was ready for that. Truth be told, he was fairly certain he would never be ready to see Frank again. Just thinking of seeing him again made his chest ache and his palms sweat. 

"You do have the connections to get invited to any party or ball you choose in Cambridge," Alicia replied gently. Gerard wasn't certain what she knew, but from her tone she clearly knew that Gerard wasn't eager to make the trip. Gerard sighed and resolved to go upstairs after breakfast and write some friendly letters to acquaintances in the Cambridge area. Ones he could actually send, he thought to himself, thinking of his pile of missives to Frank.

Mikey came into the room then and grinned at the sight of Alicia. Gerard wondered idly when their wedding would take place. According to society, it was an entirely unsuitable match, but Gerard didn't care and they had no one to order them to do otherwise. It wasn't as if the Ways had any sort of title to pass on even before they lost their fortune, and Mikey was the younger brother in any case. Gerard's parents had left him woefully unprepared for this eventuality. He supposed his father had only good intentions of increasing the family fortune when he had embarked on his mission of loans and investments. Whatever the case, he was dead and gone. It was just the two of them and they had to make their own lives. 

Gerard got up from the table and took his leave of Mikey and Alicia. He had some letters to write.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Frank spent the greater part of the week feeling positively cheery. It took him a day to realize his newfound optimism was mostly due to seeing Jamia again. She had grown up so smart, so beautiful. But she was still the same girl who'd splash through the streams in the woods bisecting the Iero and May estates. Still the same girl who'd let him kiss her while they sat on a fallen tree. She'd been young and sweet and innocent then. Frank had known at the time she was _too_ young for him, despite how besotted he was with her. He'd known, but he'd turned a deaf ear to his own common sense, for the chance to kiss her like in his fevered dreams. He'd practically been an innocent, as well. He couldn't help but think it was a sign that she was back in his life and even more wonderful than before. 

She and her friend were supposed to come by for a visit and Frank was looking forward to it greatly. He was half expecting her to come running across the back garden like she had years ago, but of course she was a young lady now and arrived in one of Sir Brian's carriages. Not too much of a young lady, though; he heard her laughing uproariously at something as she and her friend stepped down from the carriage. 

Frank beamed at them and when Jamia spotted him, she flung herself in his direction. He half expected to have his arms full of a laughing Jamia, but she stopped short. 

"Oh, Frankie. I'm so pleased to see you. I was certain you'd be off in London like all the rest." 

"I tried living in London, but all I got for my trouble was disappointment," Frank said solemnly. 

"I am very sorry to hear that, but am selfishly glad that you are here," Jamia said. 

Frank smiled. "I am thrilled to see you, so some measure of disappointment is acceptable to me. Now, before you remove your cloaks, let me show you the puppies." He watched Jamia smile wide, and even her friend, who had the few times he'd called on them had struck Frank as rather solemn, looked excited. 

"Miss Ballato, I hope you are well today," he said as they walked toward the barn containing the kennels. 

"I am, thank you," she murmured. 

"I am glad to hear it," Frank replied. "Have you been into town yet?" 

"Yesterday," Jamia replied. "Where we met our friend Christa entirely by chance." 

"The best kind of chance," Frank said. "Cambridge is not London, of course." 

"We were at a girls' school," Miss Ballato said drily. "We were not attending the Covent Garden masquerades during our free afternoons." 

"Not for lack of plotting," Jamia muttered darkly, and Frank laughed. 

"Still a troublemaker, Jamia?" 

"Always," Jamia replied with a grin. "To the end. We ran away." 

Frank _was_ somewhat surprised at that. "From school? I suppose I should have guessed. You haven't come to stay with Sir Brian for ages, and it was always during the summer...." 

"You've been keeping track of me?" Jamia murmured. 

"Only a little," Frank replied. Jamia beamed at him and Frank had an urge to take her hand like he used to do on their walks. He opened the barn door instead, led them through to the kennel entrance. 

They could hear the pups before they could see them, of course. Both girls' faces lit up. Frank led them to the stall and the pups surrounded them, yipping excitedly. 

"May we pick them up?" Miss Ballato asked, eyes shining. 

"Please do," Frank replied. Within moments they had completely forgotten about him, both going to their knees, heedless of the straw - it was clean, though, because Frank had extremely exacting standards for his dogs - and letting puppies climb all over them, murmuring to the pups and to each other. Frank had no hesitations about watching them both to his heart's content. They were clearly the dearest of friends. In truth, they reminded Frank a bit of himself and Gerard. And Mikey too, in some ways. Friends so close they were as good as family.

"Did you mean it, about giving me one?" Jamia asked softly after a while, looking up at him.

"Absolutely," Frank replied. "Only two are spoken for. If you wanted one of the runts, I would be particularly pleased. Not that you must, but they are sweet and will be harder to find homes for." 

"I am fond of small parcels," Jamia said with a bit of a twinkle in her eye. "Being that I am a bit of one myself and... for other reasons." 

Frank took a deep breath; that was surely flirting. "They are always my favorites," Frank looked into Jamia's eyes and admitted with a smile. 

Miss Ballato sneezed and drew their attention. 

"Are you alright?" Frank asked, concerned. 

"Just breathed in some dust, not to worry," she replied. Perhaps it was impolite to be flirting with Jamia in front of her friend. It had been so long since Frank had even had the notion. He was out of practice, and he'd never been that good at it in any case. Gerard had teased him that - he shook his head. No. "Please don't let me be a bad host in any way," he told Miss Ballato. "It's been a while since anyone but Ray has paid me a visit. If you'd rather go up to the house for tea...." 

She smiled and kissed the head of the puppy in her arms. "I don't mind staying here if Jamia doesn't." 

Frank nodded and stood up; he rubbed between the ears of the puppy Jamia was holding and tweaked a loose strand of her hair so she'd look up at him. 

"Go," she told him, laughing, and he stepped out of the pen, went to check on the older dogs and refreshed some water bowls and handed out treats. He listened to the murmur of the girls' voices just audible under the din of the dogs. He _liked_ having people here. He'd nearly forgotten. He was still changing the bedding in one of the dog runs when Jamia slipped into the stall behind him. 

"You do all this work yourself?" she asked. 

"Not always, but frequently," Frank replied. "It's been my pet project for the last years. I enjoy the work." 

"You sound like Uncle Brian, Frankie," she teased. "You are hardly an elderly bachelor." 

Frank laughed. "Sometimes I feel as if I am. I left London for Cambridge halfway through university because, ah - for personal reasons, and all I wanted to do when I finished was stay here." 

She smiled. "It is nice here. I can understand." 

"I like it. As a child, I never wanted to leave and my parents always preferred London. And then I got to be an unruly adolescent and didn't want to be anywhere near Cambridge," Frank said with a laugh. "Amazing how much a difference a few years makes." 

"Sometimes unruly adolescents do want to be here," she said, a bit defensively, and he touched her cheek for a moment. 

"Young women, you mean," he corrected softly. 

"If you say so," Jamia replied. 

"I do. Now, let's go get Miss Ballato and go back to the house. I think we need some tea," Frank said. Truth be told, Frank merely needed something to do. Being around Jamia was both pleasant and confusing. He loved her very much. And now, he knew it would be easy to love her again. But thoughts of Gerard were still constantly in his head. He was unsure if he would ever escape them. 

He watched Jamia and Miss Ballato precede him to the house. Jamia linked their arms and leaned up to whisper something in her friend's ear. Miss Ballato turned her head and smiled softly at Jamia. She had a lovely smile, Frank thought. He settled them in his most comfortable sitting room and rang for tea, then sat down and found himself the target of a barrage of questions about the dogs. He laughed and answered them in order. 

"Really, it started because I have always loved dogs and mother wouldn't let me have any in the house. So when I could, I... ended up with a lot of them. The breeding program was a bit of an accident, really. Or...." he laughed. "Not my original intention. But I am enjoying it. Except for the part where I must give them up." 

"So you sell them?" Miss Ballato asked. 

"Some. Some I give away. They're all terriers, so they're not particularly useful dogs." 

"Nonsense," Miss Ballato said. "Pets are useful." 

"Well, I happen to agree," Frank said. 

She smiled at him. "Glad we agree." 

The maid came in with the tea and they set about drinking it and biscuits. "How are your parents, Frankie?" Jamia asked. 

He grimaced. "They're all right. I suppose. Happy enough for me to take over the running of the estate so they can stay in London. I have not seen them myself in a while, truth be told." 

"You sound like me," Jamia said with a grimace. "My parents are in Spain. I haven't seen them in months." She paused, looked thoughtful. "I am proud of what they do, though. Just not sure... well. I'm just grateful there are other people who care about me." 

"There will always be other people who care about you," Frank replied. 

"This is what I always say as well," Miss Ballato put in. 

Frank nodded. "I am glad we agree on this too." Miss Ballato nodded back. Frank decided right then that he liked her. It was an opinion that was only reinforced when a shift in the conversation left the two girls telling stories from their years at school together. 

Apparently, Lindsey Ballato didn't take any guff if she could help it. Even if she couldn't react immediately, she always got her revenge. Jamia, of course, did everything she could to help. So strange that the age difference, which had seemed so vast when he'd had his ill-fated flirtation with Jamia, seemed like nothing now. She and Miss Ballato - no, Lindsey, because she had insisted - were quite grown up, for all that they had run away from school. Hadn't that been a story.

When it was time for them to return home, Frank saw the girls back to their carriage and watched until it turned the corner and moved beyond sight. It was a lovely afternoon and Frank hoped they could do it again very soon. 

He ordered supper to be served to him in his study. His cook was used to this request - he enjoyed sitting with a cup of coffee and a newspaper each morning in the breakfast room, but Frank hated sitting in the empty dining room by himself in the evening. Perhaps he _should_ have a party of some kind. Get people in the house again, if only for an evening. His supper was finished and he had opened his book to begin reading when the butler announced that Ray was there to see him. 

"I don't often have company twice in one day," Frank mused as he marked his place in the book. "Drink, Ray?"

"Please," Ray replied. He looked troubled. Frank handed him his drink and waited for Ray to say whatever it is he came to say. Ray took a sip and looked Frank in the eye. "Sir Brian has invited Gerard and Mikey to stay for a time." 

Frank did not bother asking him to repeat himself, although he was not certain he was hearing Ray correctly. So he said the only thing he could manage. " _How?_ " 

"Gerard wrote to him, to tell him he and Mikey would be in town for a time and ask if they could call upon Sir Brian. You know as well as I how fond he is of the Ways. He insisted on writing back at once and asking them to be his guests for the duration of their visit. I could... there was nothing I could say, Frank, I am so sorry."

"It's… I can't stop them from returning, nor would I," Frank murmured. "It was inevitable that we would encounter each other again one day. Now I know when that day will be."

"I wouldn't blame you if you kept to yourself, but Sir Brian is apt to invite you to supper, so I merely thought to warn -" Ray trailed off when Frank waved a hand. 

"Yes, and this is kind of you, but... I will not hide. Perhaps I will get the explanation I am owed, if not the apology." A tall order.

"I hope you do," Ray replied. 

"To more pleasant topics," Frank said. "Have you encountered your mysterious fencing partner again?" 

Ray snorted. "More pleasant for you, perhaps."

"I have the most sincere depth of interest in your personal happiness," Frank said, knowing the over-earnest tone would make Ray laugh.

He was correct. When Ray stopped laughing he answered,"We have fenced twice more since you and I last spoke. There is nothing of note to report, except it was enjoyable both times."

"You should keep asking," Frank told him. "Keep asking, until he tells you what you really need to know, whether it's a yea or a nay."

Ray nodded. "I will. I know he likes me. I can feel it. I don't know why he is playing so coy, but I shall try to find out." 

"Perhaps he's a prince," Frank suggested with a grin.

"I bloody well hope not," Ray said. "I'd like to keep my head." He patted his curly head defensively.

Frank reached out to pat his hand. "I'm sure you'll make it through with your head intact. There must be some reason he's so sensitive about his identity. People have dalliances all the time." _Except for me,_ he thought. _What will I do, when the first girl I loved and the man I cannot forget are under the same roof?_ He shook his head and turned his attention back to Ray. 

"Perhaps. If so, I do hope he learns to trust me." 

"I do as well, Ray." Frank sighed. "Warn me when he arrives, please," he said, returning to their original conversation.

"I will, of course," Ray replied. "I believe they're meant to arrive next week, but I will send you a note with specifics if I can't come here myself." 

Ray changed the subject again, for which Frank was grateful, and they managed to salvage a decent, if quiet, evening. By the time Frank went up to bed he'd practically forgotten it was the same day he'd taken Jamia and Lindsey to the kennel, but their tales of mischief had somehow intertwined with his own memories of his first years at university. He didn't want to think about Gerard, or Mikey, which was a shame because Mikey was blameless in this. But Mikey was inextricably linked with Gerard in Frank's mind. Aside from the general heartbreak of losing Gerard, the thing that stung the most was also losing Mikey's friendship. They had been thick as thieves once upon a time. 

He was tired, and rather well on the way to being foxed as well, and somehow these thoughts of loss and friendship sent him down an unexpected path. Ray. He'd help Ray unmask his fencing partner. Then, at least, someone he knew would have some measure of happiness.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Waking up in the mornings was much better with Lindsey by her side, with Lindsey's skin against hers. The morning after their visit to Frank, Jamia was particularly grateful. She woke Lindsey with gentle fingers on her nipples.

Lindsey grumbled and rolled onto her back, and Jamia pressed her lips together to keep from giggling and followed after her. "Lindsey, dear," she murmured, pressing her lips up under Lindsey's jaw. "I know you're awake." 

"I know you're a pest," Lindsey mumbled.

"You love it," Jamia whispered and cupped Lindsey's breasts in her hands and leaned down to suck her nipples. 

"Mmmm," Lindsey moaned low and full of pleasure. Jamia smiled. Yes, that's what she'd been aiming for. She moved the fingers of one hand away from Lindsey's breast and down to finger her folds. They'd spent enough time touching one another now that Jamia knew exactly how and where and how hard to touch to bring Lindsey to completion, but this morning she felt strange and hesitant about accepting Lindsey's return attentions. She'd dreamed about Frank last night, and it all felt very strange and twisted together in an uncomfortable way.

She'd dreamt of the hard, smooth planes of his body against hers, of calloused fingers and heat. When Jamia tried to get out of bed, Lindsey stopped her with kisses, with her hands. "Will you not let me return the pleasure you've given me this morning?"

Jamia frowned, then wrapped her arms rather abruptly around Lindsey's shoulders and tucked her face into Lindsey's neck. "You do. Every moment." She felt flushed.

Lindsey's hands stroked over her skin. "Can't I give you more? With my fingers or my mouth?" 

"Whatever you want," Jamia finally breathed.

What Lindsey wanted was to reach down and bring her off with strong fingers while she covered Jamia's breasts with kisses and stinging little bites, which she did, and which would mean wearing one of her higher-necked dresses, but Jamia did not mind in the slightest. Lindsey's fingers made her feel as if she couldn't breathe, and Jamia loved the feel of Lindsey's body against hers. Lindsey slipped her fingers back to slide them into Jamia. She thrust them several times and moved them back to rub and rub. Jamia's breath came faster and she felt warmth start to spread from her center. 

She started to shake, bit down hard on a knuckle to keep herself from crying out. It left her feeling wrung out and boneless, and she just stayed that way for a few minutes. Lindsey held her close until she was ready to move again. "I take it back. You're not a pest. You have my permission to wake me up like that anytime, dear heart." 

"Duly noted," Jamia said, tucking her head back against Lindsey's neck. 

"What do you want to do today?" Lindsey asked a few minutes later, just when Jamia was blinking to try not to fall back to sleep. 

"Visit Frank," Jamia answered without thinking.

Lindsey stilled, but only for a moment. "I'm sure we could do that if you really want to. I'd like to see the puppies again." 

"I wouldn't be able to sell them," Jamia said. "Not any of them. I don't know how Frankie does it." 

"He's the one, isn't he?" Lindsey asked, and for a moment Jamia was utterly confused.

"Lindsey," Jamia whispered when it came to her. Of course Lindsey knew about her first kiss. Jamia had told her the whole story at school, some time or another. What there was of it, at any rate; it hadn't exactly been a novel or unique affair. 

"You're going to marry him. I suppose it was inevitable, but I was hoping to have a little more time to… that we could," she trailed off with a sigh. 

"I never said I was marrying anyone," Jamia said and frowned. As for the rest of it... Jamia didn't know _what_ to say.

"Of course you are. I'm sure I will too. I just didn't expect it quite so soon," Lindsey said. The thought made Jamia's stomach twist. 

It wasn't that Lindsey was incorrect - though Jamia thought she was anticipating things that would surely still be far enough in the future to... Jamia sighed. Perhaps not. Couldn't they just go back to kissing and loving each other? "I love you," she told Lindsey, quite solemnly. "That doesn't mean you are wrong. But I do."

Lindsey lifted her head and kissed Jamia slow and soft. "I love you as well," she said when she pulled back. "We shall make do for now. And you shall always be my friend and my rescuer." 

At lunch that day Uncle Brian announced they were to be having guests in a few days. "Anyone we know, uncle?" Jamia asked. 

"A young man and his brother. I was something of a mentor to him a few years ago. Ray and young Frank know him, as I recall," Uncle Brian replied. "You'll like him," he added. "Lovely boy. Excellent artist and a dabbler in many other pursuits." Jamia looked to Ray and raised an eyebrow. 

"I haven't seen him for a few years, but he is a good friend." 

"I had no idea Cambridge was so popular," Jamia teased her uncle. "Is it because of you, I wonder?" 

"I couldn't begin to speculate," Uncle Brian replied with a twinkle in his eye. "They'll be here Friday. Perhaps we should invite young Frank for dinner." 

"Whatever you'd like, Uncle Brian," Jamia said, with a quick glance at Lindsey. Lindsey's face gave away nothing. She happened to look at Ray when she looked back at Uncle Brian and it was he who was quickly hiding a grimace. Interesting. Did Ray not want Frank around? They seemed like the best of friends. She had a moment's horror that she'd been right about Ray, that Lindsey had been right about Frank, that - Jamia had never thought so much about being married in her entire life. It was making her quite annoyed. 

She gave herself a mental shake. They would just wait for Friday and meet these new people and see what was to happen from there. 

*

Jamia made sure she was dressed nicely on Friday. Ray was most helpful and responsible, but Uncle Brian needed a hostess. Had ever since Aunt Isabelle passed. 

Lindsey helped her put her hair up in a style that made her look much older than she felt. Lindsey herself looked so extraordinarily lovely in her dress that Jamia just had to lean in and whisper in her ear, "I don't know how I'll resist you all day. Perhaps I shall push you into a forgotten corner and reach under your skirts." 

"Minx," Lindsey whispered back. 

"I can't seem to help myself around you," Jamia replied, subsiding to a more proper distance. 

"I shan't stop you," Lindsey said. The more Jamia thought about it, the more she wanted it. She was tingling and growing wet just thinking of it. She shook herself and leaned in to kiss Lindsey briefly and then they both made their way downstairs. 

Ray and Uncle Brian were both in the sitting room, which was in and of itself unusual. Uncle Brian complimented them both on their dresses. Jamia thought, not for the first time, that he really was happy they were here, not just tolerating them for her mother's sake. Jamia smiled and kissed his cheek. "Good afternoon, Uncle, Ray. When are our guests meant to arrive?" 

"Before luncheon, I imagine," Uncle Brian said. 

"Excellent," Jamia replied. "I'll be just a moment." She went into the hall and flagged down a maid. "Take me to Mrs. Fairfax?" 

"Yes, miss. Just this way," the girl replied and led the way. 

"Miss Jamia," Mrs Fairfax said. "What can I do for you?" 

"I wanted to be sure my uncle informed you we have houseguests arriving soon," she said. 

"Mr. Toro did, Miss Jamia," Mrs. Fairfax answered. "Two guest rooms have been aired, but I wasn't sure if there was anything special Cook should prepare?" 

"I will aim to find out if I can," Jamia answered. 

"That would be much appreciated," Mrs. Fairfax replied. 

"Thank you, Mrs Fairfax," Jamia said. "I'll endeavor to see to such things for as long as I remain in residence." Or until Ray married. Jamia refrained from rolling her eyes at herself. Marriage again. 

She went back to the sitting room and took her place on the sofa next to Lindsey. "Do we have any particular instructions for the cook for supper?" she asked. 

"To prepare it, I imagine," Uncle Brian laughed. Jamia pulled a face at him. 

"Is there anything we would like to serve our guests? Are anything in particular we know they like to eat?" she asked. 

"Nothing, dear niece. But thank you for seeing to such matters," Uncle Brian replied fondly. 

Jamia nodded and smiled. She and Lindsey settled in to read until the guests were announced. 

The Way brothers - Gerard, the elder, and Michael-called-Mikey - were soon ushered in. They proved to be attractive, a bit eccentric in dress, and utterly charming. They insisted the girls call them by their names straightaway, "else we'll all be hopelessly confused," Gerard claimed. 

Mikey was the quieter of the two, but he had wit to make up for it. Each thing he said made everyone laugh. Gerard was full of chatter and was clearly very pleased to see her Uncle and Ray. He was seated next to Lindsey at luncheon, and Jamia watched Gerard charm her seemingly effortlessly, feeling slightly bemused about it all. 

"Sir Brian says you're an artist," Lindsey said. After that, they got on even better. Jamia was only passing familiar with anything they were speaking about. Jamia turned the other direction and found herself in a wide-ranging conversation about music and theatre with Mikey, Ray, and her uncle. It was an enjoyable conversation. Jamia could hold her own against anyone in a discussion about music, despite only playing the pianoforte a little. 

Jamia made sure she found herself alone with Lindsey that afternoon. "Well, well," she whispered. 

"Well?" Lindsey asked. 

"That young man was making eyes at you," Jamia replied. 

"Just for a bit of amusement, I am certain," Lindsey said. 

"I am certain we shall find that out soon enough. Do you like him?" she asked. 

"As well as I can like anyone I just met," Lindsey replied, eyebrow raised. "Never tell me you're jealous, dear heart." She started smiling as she said it, though. 

"As much as one can be jealous of someone we've only just met," Jamia said coyly. She stepped closer. "Now, I believe I promised to reach under your skirts earlier." 

"Have I ever told you how much I appreciate your dedication to keeping your word?" Lindsey answered. 

"No," Jamia purred. "But you may tell me now." 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Lindsey smoothed Jamia's skirts back to their proper position and tucked a loose pin back into her hair. Jamia was still flushed and breathing hard. Just the sight of her heaving breasts made Lindsey's center pulse with want. But there were guests and other responsibilities to be attended to. 

The brothers were not in any of the downstairs sitting rooms when Lindsey and Jamia descended. Lindsey assumed they'd have retired, perhaps, or else that they were visiting with Sir Brian in his study. She and Jamia returned to the sitting room. "Frank will arrive soon, yes?" Lindsey asked. 

"I imagine he will," Jamia said equitably. "He is - was always - quite punctual." 

"I do like him, you know," Lindsey said reassuringly. "He's kind and knowledgeable and very handsome." 

"And you have very good taste, naturally," Jamia returned with a smile, clearly glad that they had talked earlier. Lindsey was determined to no longer act so unnaturally solemn about the whole situation. There was little in their lives that could change, so she might as well make the most of everything. All she'd said about Frank was true. He was also funny and welcoming and there was no reason for Lindsey to dislike him. 

She was making a number of assumptions, she knew, but Lindsey had no reason to be anything but pragmatic: Jamia would be expected to make a socially advantageous marriage. Lindsey herself simply had to marry, or else suffer the whims of her stepfather forever. She was thankful for this opportunity to be with her friend for however long it lasted. She was certain she would not lose Jamia entirely, even if they both married tomorrow. So, she would be her usual self and enjoy everything being in Sir Brian's house had to offer. 

Right now, it offered a very interesting young man. Gerard had just walked in with his brother. He had perpetually messy hair and a lovely smile and Lindsey had enjoyed talking to him almost as much as she did Jamia. 

"Good afternoon, ladies," he said. 

"Good afternoon, Ways," Jamia replied. Lindsey smiled at them both. Gerard took the chair next to her end of the settee.

"Has your afternoon been diverting?" Lindsey asked him. He smiled. 

"Yes. I have missed Sir Brian and Ray more than I realized. It's good to see them." 

"I hope you'll enjoy the rest of your visits as well," Lindsey said. 

"Perhaps I'll write to postpone them all and stay right here," Gerard replied. "Have you relented yet and decided I may see your sketches?" 

"Not yet," Lindsey said with a small smile. He'd cajoled her for half of their luncheon. She would eventually relent, she knew. 

Jamia shifted at the other end of the settee. "Oh, I think I heard a knock. Frank must be here."

Beside Lindsey, Gerard went still and his hands clenched. His face was pale; he drew in one deep breath and schooled his features back into the easy smile from before. 

"How do you know Frank, Gerard? Mikey?" Jamia asked. "Uncle Brian never really said. I assumed university?" She smiled politely; she had clearly missed the reaction to Frank's name. Lindsey had not.

"Yes, we met in university," Gerard replied. "He's the best friend I ever had. It will be good to see him again." Lindsey knew the last was a lie, but she didn't speak. A moment later, the butler announced Frank and he came into the room. 

Mr. Toro was trailing along in his wake, and his nervous expression spoke volumes as well. Curiouser and curiouser. Lindsey heard Gerard breathe out slowly and focused on Frank, who looked - controlled, she thought. Painstakingly groomed and dressed, as opposed to the way he'd looked in the kennel the other day. He wasn't letting anything slip, and that in itself seemed to be an admission of sorts.

Gerard and Mikey stood. Mikey stepped forward first and shook Frank's hand. "Frank," he said warmly, "It is very good to see you." 

There was the barest hint of relief in Frank's face before he smiled. "And you, Mikey. How are you?" 

"Well enough. Pleased to be back in Cambridge to see everyone," he replied. "London is nice, but we miss this town." 

Lindsey was certain for a moment that Frank would look past Gerard without acknowledging him at all. Perhaps the cut direct would have been preferable, because the utter lack of reaction on Frank's face when Gerard said Frank's name was terrible to witness. 

"Gerard," he replied. "I see that you are well." He did not offer a hand. 

"I hope you are as well," Gerard answered. 

Jamia seemed to have finally realized something was amiss, because she immediately stepped to Frank's side and laid a hand on his arm. "Frank, how delightful, you are perfectly on time. Ray, did you happen to note if Uncle Brian was still in his study?"

"He was finishing a letter before joining us. He should join us shortly," Ray replied. 

"Excellent," Jamia said. 

Just then, Sir Brian came into the room. "Mrs. Fairfax tells me supper is ready," he said. "And I must say, I'm delighted to see you all here. You were always my favorite young people." 

"Jamia and I are related to you," Ray pointed out mildly, and Sir Brian laughed. 

"That provides no guarantee of likeability. Mikey and Gerard here are a bit of an exception that proves the rule." 

"No, I don't actually like him at all," Mikey said dryly. Lindsey laughed along with everyone else. It was so clearly a lie. 

Sir Brian occupied himself with providing them all with drinks, and Lindsey wrapped her fingers around Jamia's wrist and drew her away from the group to whisper, "I hope you did not seat those two together." 

Jamia shook her head. "I was not aware there was any conflict between them. Uncle Brian must not -" 

"He wouldn't," Lindsey breathed, nudging Jamia to look back at the men. Gerard and Frank were both standing with Sir Brian and allowing him to include them in a conversation.

"Well, at least they'll be polite?" Jamia whispered in Lindsey's ear. "Though maybe a fistfight at the dining table would liven things up." 

No, Lindsey thought to herself a bit later, after the soup course had been cleared. Frank would not be satisfied by a punch. Whatever lay between them had left a deeper wound than that. They spoke, when necessary, but the things they did not say spoke as well. In fact, Mikey and Gerard were both strangely reticent in some areas. It wasn't immediately noticeable. They were clearly skilled at leading the conversation in ways that felt natural. Often with a joke or a counter-question that devolved into a longer discussion. Lindsey wondered what they were hiding. 

"Tell me," Lindsey said to Gerard over supper, when most of the rest of the table was focused on other conversations, "What it is truly like, to study art at university. Since my sex precludes my participation."

"Which is absurd, I feel," Gerard said. 

Lindsey smiled. "I rather agree. Since I cannot learn for myself, you will have to tell me." 

"There was much focus on classic works of art. Which, if I am being completely honest, is not as interesting to me as the act of creating," Gerard replied. 

"Life drawing?" Lindsey asked airily.

"Life drawing was always a favorite," he said. "The human form is... well. Remarkable." He gives her a little sideways look. "Seeing it in books is not nearly the same." 

"I can imagine," she replied, satisfied that he'd taken the bait. 

"Do you?" he asked in a low voice. 

"Imagine?" Lindsey asked, but he didn't get to reply because someone down the table asked her a question. She noticed they had Frank's attention as well. He was looking at them with the strangest expression. There was some anger, but mostly, he looked truly, deeply sad. It was not an unfamiliar feeling to her. She turned back to Gerard. "Do you have a preferred subject, Gerard? Or medium?" 

"Ink and paper, mostly," Gerard answered. "Sometimes I paint, but it doesn't have the same... I can't do it just anywhere. I like the immediacy." 

"Instant gratification?" she teased. 

"Oh no," Gerard murmured. "Sometimes taking your time is equally satisfying." 

She felt her cheeks go pink. "I'm sure I agree. And your favorite subject?" 

"I'm fond of landscapes. But not the idyllic kind. The strange, terrible ones," Gerard replied. 

"Will you show me your work?" Lindsey asked. 

"Only if you return the favor," Gerard returned. 

"Keep asking," she answered lightly. 

"I shall. I have been told that I am extremely tenacious when I find there's something I want, Miss Ballato," he said. 

Well. That was fairly direct. She tried not to blush. Jamia caught her eye and raised an eyebrow. Lindsey did blush then and turned back to her food until she felt the heat fade from her cheeks 

"We should all go out riding tomorrow," Jamia suggested after a lull in conversation. 

"That sounds entertaining," Gerard said. "One simply cannot match the diversions of the country. Isn't that right, Frank?" 

Frank narrowed his eyes for just a moment and then answered with politeness. Lindsey was certain he only sounded that way. 

"The diversions I've found here are far better than anything I ever found in London." 

"Perhaps they are. So glad I decided to visit and sample them," Gerard said smoothly. His hand was shaking and he put down his fork. "I really have missed it. Missed everything," he added quietly. 

"I suppose that's the risk of leaving," Frank replied, venom buried deep in his last word. Lindsey wondered how much of it was even apparent to the other end of the dining table. She set her teeth. 

"Do you have any preferred local destinations, Frank? I would think you must." 

Frank took a breath. "If a ride is what is wanted, I always enjoyed the woods between my estate and Sir Brian's." He and Jamia shared a smile. 

"Very well, tomorrow afternoon if it is pleasant," Jamia said with finality. Lindsey saw her share a look with Mr. Toro, who suggested drinks in the library. 

She was intensely curious about what had happened between Frank and Gerard. Clearly it had been terrible and Frank clearly blamed Gerard for it. Lindsey supposed if she waited long enough, her curiosity would be satisfied. Just then, the servants brought in pudding and the conversation shifted again. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

If supper was painful, Gerard thought the gathering in the study afterwards was worse. Frank didn't look at him at all, really, and only glanced over him briefly when he left for home. Gerard was grateful for Miss Ballato's presence. At least he could speak with her. 

When he and Mikey retired to their rooms, Gerard finally allowed himself to sag down onto the bed and hold his aching head in his hands. "I know I deserve every ounce of his anger," Gerard murmured to Mikey. "But that doesn't stop it feeling like a knife in my chest." 

"Do you want his forgiveness, brother? Or something different?" 

"I... everything. I want everything and I always have. I want his forgiveness, his love... I know I don't deserve anything. Not anymore. But I want." Gerard sighed heavily. 

"He is very angry," Mikey said. 

"I know," Gerard replied miserably. "He has every right to be." 

"It may be ill-done to flirt so with Miss Ballato," Mikey commented. Gerard frowned. 

"He keeps flirting with Miss Nestor, and I rather like Miss Ballato. I can't... I hate this. It's all right for you," he mused after a moment. "Alicia knows everything." 

"I know. Because I am very lucky. Can you imagine Mother and Father's reaction if I introduced her to them? I'm not happy they're dead, but I can't deny that things are easier, in some ways, now that they're gone," Mikey replied softly. "I'm sorry it's not so easy for you." 

It would be perfectly easy, if Gerard could let himself enjoy the high-spirited Miss Ballato - and Miss Nestor, for that matter - and whatever series of innocent amusements they might devise, until they could infiltrate their mark's home. But Frank was there and as he was clearly very friendly with everyone, he was unlikely to just vanish. 

Gerard could not bring himself to wish for such a thing at any rate. Frank was there. And he looked well. More than merely well; Gerard hoarded every moment he had been within view tonight. He waved absentmindedly as Mikey said goodnight, thinking about the curl of Frank's hair against his cheek. His hair was longer now than when they were in school. Frank looked both exactly and nothing like he used to. Gerard desperately wanted to tuck that lock of hair behind his ear and kiss him every time he saw it. And it appeared that he'd have plenty of time to study and wish tomorrow as well. 

*

The next afternoon, they met in the entryway and walked to the stables where Frank was to meet them on his own horse. Miss Ballato fell into step beside him. "It's a lovely day for a ride," she murmured. 

"And lovely company," he answered, giving her his arm. He meant it. She was dressed in a riding habit with a sweeping skirt of some tartan. "Are you Scottish, Miss Ballato?" he asked. 

"In part," she replied. "Though I spent my youth in India." 

"India! A place I've heard so many tales of, it's hard to know what's true," Gerard said. "How did you like it?" 

Lindsey smiled. "I didn't see very much outside of our own compound, but I remember what I did see being lovely. I was very young," she said. 

"You are still very young," he told her with a smile. "You are not _so_ much older than I, Mr Way," she said with a laugh. 

"Perhaps not, but if you make a habit of calling me Mr Way, I shall certainly start to feel like an old man." 

"Yes, yes, Gerard," she said airily. "Do call me Lindsey. Even footing and all." 

He loved her smile. So much so that he didn't immediately see Frank's approach on horseback. The jingle of the reins on the bit and Frank dismounting finally forced Gerard to look away from Lindsey's mouth, and over to see Frank kiss Miss Nestor's hand. They looked well together, he thought with a sigh. He caught Lindsey glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. 

"Good morning, Frank," Lindsey said. 

"Good morning, Lindsey," he replied and nodded toward Gerard. "Gerard." 

"Hello, Frank," Gerard replied quietly. "I hope you are well this morning," he offered. 

"I am, thank you," Frank replied, and after a beat asked, "And yourself?" 

"I am well," Gerard replied. "The morning has been pleasant." 

"A pleasant morning. Yes. I do remember those." His tone was uneven again, and Miss Nestor jumped in to ask him something about puppies. 

"Puppies?" Gerard asked when Frank was done answering. 

"I breed them," Frank replied. Gerard couldn't help the fond smile that crossed his face. 

"That is not at all surprising." 

"I am not a surprising person," Frank answered. 

"I don't know about that. But I do know you love dogs." He looked at the girls. "More than once, he stopped us in the street so he could stop one being trod on, or merely to pet a mutt running around begging for scraps." 

That almost got a smile from Frank. Gerard wanted his smile. His wide, happy grin. Frank had favored everyone with that look, even Mikey, but not him. Probably never him again. 

There was a bit of a bustle as the grooms brought out horses. Once they were mounted, Frank and Miss Nestor rode out ahead with Mikey and Ray directly behind them. Gerard and Lindsey brought up the rear. Gerard was at once disappointed and glad. It was indeed a beautiful afternoon. As a town-dweller - and since the saddle horses had been the first thing he'd sold - Gerard hadn't ridden in quite some time. He missed it. More than he had known, given the thrill being on horseback again was giving him. 

Frank and Ray kept up a running commentary of observations on their two properties. They sounded every inch the young, prosperous landowners they were destined to be. It was enough to make Gerard wistful. Or perhaps merely jealous. It wasn't that he was eager to take on the responsibility of running a large estate, but he wished he could have their freedom. And he had Mikey to think of as well. Mikey who would marry Alicia soon and would need a home. 

He reflected that he and Mikey would need to call into town tomorrow, visit Alicia where she was staying at a local inn and "information gathering," as she called it. 

"Tuppence for your thoughts," Lindsey said, sounding amused. 

"They're not worth even that, I'm sure," Gerard replied. 

"Be that as it may," she said. "I would like to know what could cause such romantic furrows in your brow, sir." 

"Love and money. And how one always complicates the other," Gerard replied honestly. 

"I hardly think those unworthy thoughts," Lindsey said. "As the daughter of a foreigner with little dowry, I know of which I speak." 

"As one who has seen how easy it is for a fortune to disappear...." Gerard trailed off. "We are an ill-starred pair, it seems." 

"Whoever said we were a pair?" Lindsey asked, with an arch look. 

Gerard waved a hand. "No one, to my knowledge. But were we to be, ours would be a match rich in conversation and little else." 

"A shame," Lindsey murmured, but she kept her mount at the same pace as Gerard's and continued to chat with him and with Ray, who fell back to trot beside them. Mikey nudged his horse up to fall in beside Frank. Gerard was glad. He and Mikey were close as well and Gerard knew Mikey had also missed Frank. Ray's conversation, while circumspect, was more than enough to paint Lindsey a fairly accurate picture of Gerard and Mikey's situation. Gerard decided he didn't mind. He liked Lindsey well enough that any deceit would fill him with guilt. 

After a while Lindsey trotted ahead, smiling mischievously at Miss Nestor and leading her off in a brief canter. Eventually the group drew up _en masse_ in a large clearing and started dismounting. Gerard was quick enough that he could step over and hold Frank's reins for him. 

"Thank you," Frank said shortly. Gerard frowned. 

"Frank..." He trailed off and sighed. 

"You are not here by my invitation," Frank hissed. "And I can be polite, but please do not expect me to be kind." 

Gerard swallowed and whispered back, "I don't expect that. Do not expect me to make no attempt at amends." 

"All I want from you is -" It was Frank's turn to pause and swallow. "Well. I thought I wanted an explanation. But maybe it is too late for that as well." 

"I would give you anything you asked for. An explanation would be difficult, but I would try," 

"I don't know," Frank muttered. 

"If you decide, let me know," Gerard replied and handed the reins back to Frank, adding softly, "Know that I have missed you, Frankie." 

For a moment, Gerard thought he saw a crack in Frank's expression, but Frank turned away instead, calling for Ray. Gerard took a deep breath and looked over to where Lindsey and Miss Nestor were standing close and talking on the other side of the clearing. Mikey walked over, tapping his crop on his boot. 

"Enjoying the ride, Gerard?" he murmured. Gerard quirked his lips into a half smile. 

"In a manner of speaking." 

Mikey clasped his shoulder. "Perhaps you should go back to talking with the pretty girl who inexplicably seems taken with you," Mikey said. 

"Hardly inexplicable," Gerard drawled. Mikey rolled his eyes. "She _is_ very lovely," Gerard said. 

"Very," Mikey agreed. "Think about that, if you like. I feel it is less of a distraction than the other choice." 

"You find me distracted, Mikey?" Gerard murmured. 

"I find myself impatient to see Alicia, that's all," Mikey told him. "And yes, to finish our work."

Gerard took a breath and nodded. The sooner they finished, the sooner everything would be just that much less complicated. He didn't regret what they'd done because it meant Mikey could have a better life, but he was tired of it. It had been easier when he was still angry, sublimating his grief and his frustrations into stealing from thieves. But he was no longer angry with anyone but himself. Thus - tired. He let his eyes stray back to Lindsey. She, at least, made him feel lively, and interesting.

Frank, on the other hand, made him feel older than his years, as if he'd already lived ten lifetimes. 

Gerard smiled at Mikey. "Tomorrow we'll go into town. See Alicia and do some business," Gerard said. Mikey nodded and Gerard made his way toward Lindsey and Miss Nestor. He would walk along the stream he could see the ladies pointing to, and he would help them lay out their picnic blanket and eat whatever sweets they had tucked away in the saddlebags a footman had handed Miss Nestor's groom before they left, and he would simply try to feel awake for a while.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Frank watched Gerard as he walked away. Watched Mikey approach him, watched them speak for a few moments, and then watched Gerard make his way to where the girls were standing. He forced himself to look away, to tend his horse and breathe. Despite Ray's warning that Gerard would be staying at the May estate, Frank had not actually been prepared to see Gerard again. Not in any real way.

He was only hurting himself by agreeing to these outings. He should have said no to this ride. He should have said no to the dinner invitation. He should have invented urgent business in the City for the duration of their entire visit, because he was, clearly, utterly incapable of saying no. Because despite the fact that seeing Gerard hurt him, that speaking with Gerard made him nauseous, Frank desperately wanted to keep seeing and speaking with him. He was still just as beautiful as he had been, if looking more careworn than he ever had before. Frank wanted to take _care_ of him, and that was just the final straw.

Frank was unsurprised when Mikey made his way over to him. "Mikey, I..." Mikey waved a hand. 

"What is between the two of you is your business. I will not apologize for him, and I will not ask anything of you that you cannot give. That is the best I can do," he added. 

"I wouldn't want to... I wouldn't want you to do any different," Frank said. "Mikey, have I told you how very glad I am to see you?" 

"Yes," Mikey said patiently. "And I have told you the same, but I will repeat myself if you would like. I am glad to see you. I missed you. I only wish we had longer here." 

"You - Mikey," Frank said hesitantly, "Is he quite all right?" 

Mikey took a moment before he answered. "I think that very much depends upon how you define all right." Frank just looked at him. "He doesn't eat enough or sleep enough, and the occasions on which I've seen him smile like he meant it are few. Is this what you want to hear, Frank?" 

"No," Frank replied. "It is not." 

"He's happier now than I've seen him in a long while. And you can see that's not particularly happy," Mikey said. 

It was true. Gerard seemed to enjoy being with Lindsey and Jamia and Ray, but his expression turned melancholy quickly. "I - you are welcome at my home any time, Mikey, but it was a mistake for me to come along today," Frank said suddenly, tugging his gloves back on and untying his reins with jerky motions. "Please make my excuses to Jamia." 

He swung himself back up into the saddle. The foursome further down the path looked up in surprise when they heard the jingle of his tack, but he kept riding. He stopped when he was well away. He swallowed hard. It wasn't supposed to be like this. He didn't know how it _was_ supposed to be, but not this. 

His horse, Shelley, pranced a bit, unused to such a tense grip. Frank forced himself to relax for her sake and turned to take the most direct route back to his own stable. He dismounted and gave her a handful of grain before letting the groom take her. He walked over to the kennels and let himself into the enclosure with the puppies, sat in the straw, and let them crawl all over him. 

*

Frank woke up late the next morning and cursed automatically at the weak sunshine. Too much to drink the night before, clearly, but he'd slept. He decided to go into town to purchase a few things - mostly to clear his head with a bit of a drive. His footman made anxious faces about him taking the small carriage out by himself, but Frank took it anyway. He wanted to be alone, wanted the wind in his face. 

He felt more human when he arrived in town, leaving his carriage in the hands of his favored coaching inn and venturing down the high street in search of a few odds and ends. After, he ducked into a pub for some lunch and was ensconced at a table when Gerard, Mikey, and a pretty woman came in and sat at another table just out of eyeline. Frank could still hear them, though. He frowned and retreated a little further into his corner. 

"Look, gentlemen," the woman said, "it will not be as easy as we had hoped." 

"How do you mean?" Gerard asked. 

"I mean he rarely leaves his estate except by invitation from the most important people. Like the Earl," the woman replied. 

"I don't want to use Sir Brian like that," Gerard insisted. "There must be some other way." 

"The housekeeper told me very firmly that there was no employment to be had, Gerard. Not even as a kitchen drudge. So I cannot help this time." 

Gerard sighed heavily. "If this one wasn't the worst of the lot..." 

Frank had no idea what they were speaking about, but it did not sound like their activities were at all savory in nature. They were speaking in hushed tones, but Frank could hear the strain in Gerard's voice, the resignation in the woman's. Then Mikey spoke up. 

"We must find a way, and then it will finally be finished, and I think that will be the best thing for us all." 

There was a pause and then Gerard murmured, "If we're very lucky, there will be enough to get you a house." 

"We wouldn't mind living with you, Gerard," Mikey protested. 

"I don't know how long I can afford the townhouse, Mikey. And you don't deserve to be saddled with me." 

"Gerard," Mikey said firmly. "Stop being a fool. If you have to give up the townhouse, we will have you with us regardless." 

The woman sniffed. "I don't know that he's capable of not being a fool." 

Frank almost laughed. How true that statement was. But his mind was whirling. What were they discussing, these three? They were two men who were - were once - like brothers to him, and a woman Mikey seemed to be engaged to, and the way they were talking... it gave Frank such a strong feeling of disquiet. 

He was relieved when they finished their tea and left. His stomach was upset again and he wished there was anywhere or anyone he could go to escape it for just a moment. He sat for a while longer, nursing his tea, then called for something stronger. Finally he tossed down some coin and went to retrieve his horse and carriage from the stable. 

The drive home was not nearly so pleasant, mind and stomach both churning, and when he got home he was informed by his butler on the doorstep that Miss Nestor was waiting in the library. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

When Frank walked into the library and saw Jamia sitting in his favorite chair, he looked both surprised and pleased, and it gave her a warm feeling to see the expression on his face. 

"Jamia," he said. "I hope you haven't been waiting long?" 

She stood and smiled at him. "Half an hour, but it was a pleasant and warm wait." 

"You are alone?" he asked. She laughed. 

"Is that improper? You know I'm hopelessly terrible at propriety. But Mikey and Ray were spending the afternoon with Uncle, Gerard took Lindsey for a walk, and well - I was at loose ends." 

"I am glad you came. I did not have a particularly good morning and was wishing for a friendly face." He smiled as he said it, but it was a tentative expression. She stepped forward and put a hand on his arm. 

"I am sorry you had a trying time. It seems to have been a common ailment this morning. Can you tell me about it?" Jamia asked. 

"Generally out of sorts, for the most part," Frank said. 

"I don't believe that for a moment, but if that's all you want to say, I shan't press," Jamia replied. 

"Perhaps it would be better to tell you," Frank said with a sigh. "Shall we order up tea? It's a rather long story, all told." 

"Of course," she said, sitting back down, on the settee this time. He rang for a footman and then sat next to her. 

"I suppose it starts back when I met Gerard and Mikey at school. We were fast friends almost immediately. The best friends I'd ever had, apart from you," Frank explained when the tea came and they were sipping at their cups. 

"And you had a falling out?" she asked. "It's been fairly apparent," Jamia added when he didn't answer right away. 

"Yes. I suppose, but that is not the whole story. Jamia, I...." He seemed hesitant again so she interrupted. 

"Were you lovers?" Jamia asked quietly. Frank nearly startled out of his seat. 

"How...?" 

"I may be young, but I still know things, Frank." 

"I didn't think you didn't. I just... is it that obvious?" he asked. 

"It was to me," Jamia replied. "You've looked far more heartbroken than angry these last days." It had nearly broken her heart, just to watch. She'd been distracted, true - Lindsey had seemed to sense the tension even before Jamia - but it had been rather unmistakable, in the end.

"Yes," Frank said. "Yes, I suppose that is true. And he left me, two years ago. And never gave me a reason why. Nothing I could understand. He... left. And I came back here to Cambridge because I couldn't bear London any longer." 

"And now he's returned and it still hurts?" Jamia asked. 

"Almost like it happened yesterday," Frank admitted tiredly. Jamia reached out and touched his hand. 

"What did happen yesterday?" 

"Nothing distressing compared to what happened today," Frank told her. 

She looked concerned. "What happened today?" 

"I went to town to make a few purchases and decided to take rest in a nearby pub when Gerard, Mikey, and a woman who seems to be his intended came in and started speaking," Frank explained. "They did not know I was there, and what I heard...you will never believe me. You will think my resentment is speaking for me." 

"Tell me and I shall be the judge of that," Jamia said. 

"I don't rightly know how to explain it. They were talking about someone they clearly wanted access to. About how he never goes out unless Sir Brian is the one doing the inviting, how the housekeeper told the woman they wouldn't hire her... it all sounded very ominous," Frank murmured. 

"Ominous, and vague," Jamia murmured. She furrowed her brow. Frank could be quick to anger, yes, but he wouldn't judge someone unjustly. Not a friend. She was certain of it.

"Yes. I couldn't rightly show myself and question them," Frank said. "Perhaps it's nothing. And if it's something, they all agreed that whatever it is, this will be the last." 

"You suspect something...dishonest?" she asked. 

"I suspect anything and everything, when it comes to him. Whatever took him away from me..." She raised a questioning eyebrow. "It must have been a strong force, indeed. Because even now, I know he loves me," Frank ended in a whisper. 

"And you love him." 

"For my sins," Frank breathed. "Gerard is… he's beautiful and full of amazing ideas and thoughts. He sees the world uniquely. I defy anyone to not love him at least a little after they've got to know him."

"And you still do, even after he has hurt you." Jamia was certain of that as well. Oh, what a tangle.

Frank nodded. "I still do. I expect I always will." 

"Perhaps it is time to make amends?" Jamia suggested quietly.

"I would expect honesty. I am not at all sure he would provide it."

"You won't know what he can provide unless you ask," Jamia said. 

"Of course, you are correct," Frank replied. "When did you get to be so wise, Jamia Nestor?"

"That is simply common sense, Frank," she corrected with a little smile. He smiled back.

"I suspect listening to my woes was not the reason you called on me." 

"It is preferable to thinking about mine," she said lightly.

"If it would help ease the burden, I would be happy to hear your woes," Frank told her. "The least I can do is return the favor you have granted me."

"I believe I shall survive," Jamia answered. "As will you." She leaned in and kissed his cheek. "It will be dark soon, and I must return home. Please do not make yourself a stranger, Frankie. I expect to see you in our sitting room again before the week is out."

"If you insist," Frank replied. "I will try to behave myself." 

Jamia smiled. "I'm sure you shall be a gentleman." 

"We made dinner tense. And the ride. I'm sorry I left. It was all too much, suddenly. I wanted to sit with you by the stream and reminisce."

"Some other time," she leaned in and kissed him again, and he waited a moment too long to turn into it, so it was just a brush of lips across his cheekbone. Her breath caught anyway. Then Jamia patted his shoulder and stood, and he got to his feet automatically to walk her to the door, signaling for a footman to take her to the stables.

"Have a good evening, Jamia," he murmured and looked back toward the windows. "It looks like rain, so you'd best hurry home. Please, feel free to tell me your own troubles at any time. I would be honored to listen." 

"I will remember," she replied as the footman led her away.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Gerard was the one to discover Lindsey pacing up and down the length of the large sitting room the afternoon after their ride through the estate. She was glad it was him, because if he asked why she was unsettled she could simply explain that she felt at loose ends. She hadn't fully realized, being at school, how ill-suited she was for idleness. Jamia would have been sympathetic, of course, and probably would have suggested something highly diverting to rid them both of excess energy, but Jamia was meeting with the cook about something or other on behalf of Sir Brian and Lindsey was trying to stay out from underfoot.

"If you are restless, perhaps a walk about the gardens would suit?" Gerard asked. 

"That would be lovely," Lindsey replied, relieved. A walk would be just the thing. With Gerard as her companion, it would be even better. Gerard seemed to be in an energetic mood himself, setting off across the lawns instead of simply keeping to the manicured beds immediately surrounding the manor house. Lindsey followed happily. The ground was damp from some morning rain and she was sure to get her skirts muddied up, but she didn't much care. 

"Are you well today, Gerard?" she asked.

"Was that in doubt, Lindsey?" he asked lightly, but she knew it was a bit of a farce. He'd looked devastated yesterday when Frank had ridden off so suddenly. She slipped a hand into his and tugged to get him to stop and face her. 

"Gerard," she repeated gently. 

He smiled, a little ruefully. "As well as expected. Are we walking or are we talking?" 

He did not relinquish her hand.

"I feel we are capable of both, but perhaps you would like a different topic?" she asked as they started walking again. His hand was warm and and his grip sure and she felt content for the first time all day.

"We could discuss you, Lindsey, and how lovely you are," he said. "Is that a topic of mutual interest?" 

"We could discuss you and how lovely you are as well, Gerard," she answered honestly. "But that's rather superficial. I suppose we could discuss the weather, but again...."

"Superficial _and_ boring," Gerard said decisively. 

"Yes," Lindsey agreed. "We have discussed art rather extensively, though I'm certain we could speak more and not get tired of it." 

"Perhaps we shall talk about talking," Gerard said teasingly.

Lindsey gave him a knowing look. "You dance around a topic quite pleasingly, Gerard. Would that I could dance with you to test your skill at the waltz as well." 

"I don't think young ladies are encouraged to waltz," he replied, and just as she was sure she was beginning to look thunderous added, "But I would treasure each moment." 

He was rather closer than she remembered a moment ago, and she took a breath. "Your flirtations are agile as well," she commented. "Though there is no one around to see today, so I am not sure why you are working so hard at it."

"Perhaps I enjoy flirting with you," he said. 

"You needn't," she replied. "As I like you rather well and I don't particularly need to be impressed by your wit any longer." 

He smiled at her brightly and squeezed her hand in his. "I suppose not, but I like to see the little smirk on your face when I flirt with you."

"If a reaction is all you are trying to provoke, you'd do better to flirt with Frank," she replied, abandoning subtlety.

"Frank would not react kindly to my flirtations, as I gave up the right to flirt with him years ago," Gerard said quietly. "I have not been flirting with you to make him jealous, if that is what you are implying."

"I know. And I'm fairly sure you are not flirting with me in hopes of securing my nonexistent dowry. I had retained a bit of hope that it was due to my general attractiveness, but if Frank is a good exemplar of your usual dancing partners...." She allowed the question to trail off.

"Lindsey, there were many reasons that I ended things with Frank. Some of them good, some of them profoundly stupid, but my feelings for him and the way we parted have little bearing on my feelings for you," Gerard said earnestly.

She intended to answer, but was cut off by a sudden spatter of rain. They looked at each other, wide-eyed - Lindsey had assumed it would hold off, and apparently so had Gerard - and after a moment of frozen indecision both of them hurried towards a nearby vine-draped gazebo, arriving in the relatively snug interior breathless and a bit damp. "Tell me more," she continued when Gerard merely stared at her. "About your feelings for me."

He stood very close and clasped her other hand. "You are entirely lovely and being in your presence makes me feel lighter, feel happier than I have in a long time." Lindsey did not have a ready answer to that statement, so she kissed him instead, without an ounce of hesitation.

Gerard kissed back, eagerly and expertly. She wrapped her arms around Gerard's neck and he pulled her closer about the waist. He wasn't treating her like a young girl, but neither did his hands have the loving gentleness of Jamia's. He was neither leading nor following, merely appreciating, and it made her long for more. She wondered how best to coax him.

She slid her hands up his neck and into his hair. His hands clenched on her waist and she rubbed her fingers along his scalp until he pressed even closer. "Lindsey," he murmured against her lips. "Oh, how I've missed this." 

"Missed?" 

"The excitement of something new, something without -" 

"Strings?" She suggested. 

"Artifice," he corrected. He tugged her toward a bench and pulled her down next to him. He cupped her cheek with one hand and grasped her waist with the other and leaned in again, this time sliding his tongue delicately over her lips. If he was expecting hesitation, he was surely surprised. She made an eager noise and opened to him. 

The hand on her waist wandered up her bodice, resting just below her breast. She slid her tongue along his and pressed herself into his hand, hoping he would move it further. He slid his hand to cup her breast, sweeping the thumb over her nipple, and even through two layers of cotton and silk the sure pressure made her gasp. "So eager," he murmured against her lips and moved his lips over her chin and down her neck. 

She tipped her head to the side and took a deep breath, then another. Gerard kept kissing until his lips brushed the tops of her breasts. She was very glad she'd chosen to wear this particular dress that day. "And beautiful. Never forget beautiful," he added, thumb rubbing the skin at the edge of her neckline. She cupped his cheeks and pulled his lips back to hers. 

"And you are intoxicating," she murmured before kissing him again. He twisted a loosened strand of her hair around his fingers. 

"I want you," he whispered. "And we should stop this before I completely forget how to be a gentleman." 

"You act as if I would mind if you did," she murmured. He laughed breathlessly. 

"I think you would mind very much if I did while we were sitting in the gazebo." 

Lindsey smiled and rolled her eyes. "Yes, I suppose so." 

"Lindsey, have you...?" It was her turn to laugh. 

"Not with a man." She barely held back her laugh at how wide his eyes went. 

"Very good friends _indeed,_ " he finally said. She nodded her head. 

"I suppose I have nothing to fear from you, since you have already told me your own secret," she murmured. 

"Nothing at all," he replied and kissed her again. "The rain is letting up. Perhaps we should go inside?" 

She let him lead her back inside, still hand-in-hand, and when they passed the library he laughed. "No dalliance in the library in this household," he murmured in response to her raised eyebrow. 

"Well," she said. "Not right _now_." 

"I can't tell if you're propositioning me, or if it's already happened," Gerard said. 

"I believe I shall allow you to wonder." 

"Or perhaps it's both?" he asked. 

"I'll allow you to wonder that as well," Lindsey replied. She turned into the sitting room and pulled him down on the sofa next to her. He immediately cupped her jaw and leaned in to kiss her again. Harder this time, more demanding this time. Expecting a response in kind. It thrilled her to her toes that he would react to her this way. "You're perfect," she murmured. 

Gerard laughed. "Hardly. Not even a little bit. You are far closer to perfection than I'll ever be." She leaned in to nose at his neck, laughing delightedly against his skin when he moaned. 

"Not to interrupt," a voice said. "But Lindsey, I'm not sure this is the best idea." 

Lindsey pulled back from Gerard and looked at Jamia where she hovered in the doorway. "At least we're not in the garden," Lindsey said slowly. Jamia looked unsettled. 

"No, that's not it. I'm not sure he's being entirely honest with us," Jamia said. "For one, he and Frank are... I don't know what they are, but it's something." 

"I know," Lindsey said, just as Jamia asked, 

"The garden?" 

Gerard said, "Frank?" 

"It started raining, so we cut short our walk," Lindsey said. 

"Ah," Jamia replied. 

"And I told him. About us. Since he told me about Frank," Lindsey said. 

"Well, unless Frank was very much mistaken, that's not all he could be dishonest about," Jamia countered and looked at Gerard. "He heard you in the pub today. So you'd best explain." Jamia looked rather angry, and Gerard looked - abashed. Perhaps there was something he was hiding. 

"Gerard?" Lindsey asked. 

"It's a long story," Gerard said. 

"We have time," Jamia insisted. 

"It starts with Frank," Gerard said. "I was so in love. Stupidly in love. The kind of love where you forget anything else exists. And then my mother and father both died. It turned out, my father had first squandered away much of our fortune gambling. And then in an attempt to get it back, he trusted the wrong people and made risky investments," Gerard said.

"It is no secret, I suppose," Gerard continued, "that he lost the family's entire fortune. It fell to me to pay his debts, leaving my brother and I to support ourselves entirely on a pittance." Lindsey squeezed Gerard's hand. He squeezed back. "We had little left but my grandmother's house in Town and I was bitter and angry and when someone I knew approached me with a different option, I took it." 

"But what is it?" Jamia insisted. "Frank was concerned. I'm concerned. You are a guest in my family's home, Mr. Way." 

"And I would never abuse that trust," he insisted. Gerard took a deep breath. "Sometimes I like to think of myself as Robin Hood. It makes me feel noble, rather than desperate. And we _do_ give much of what we take to various charities. But the truth is, we're thieves." He was meeting Jamia's eyes steadily, and Lindsey took the opportunity to study his face. He didn't appear ashamed, but - 

"Is this why you ended your affair with Frank?" she asked. 

"I couldn't involve him in my troubles, nor ask him to support me. The creditors were dangerous men. I was frightened enough for my own skin; I couldn't have lived with myself if Frank had been a target. And I would have never countenanced making him an accomplice. Not when our very relationship was...." He sighed. "It could have been held over my head. So I left. And I know the way I did it was a mistake. I know I should have been more honest, but I can't change it now. We have one target left and then we're through." He looked sure, almost content when he said that. "And there will be enough money to buy Mikey and his fiancé a home and I will find some form of gainful employment for myself."

Jamia looked shocked but still curious, as if she were still turning the revelation over in her head. Lindsey herself felt oddly sympathetic to his position. She knew better than anyone what it was like to have a secret that you could tell no one. Even Jamia did not know hers. She knew she could tell Jamia now, but not telling her had become habit. Her mother had trained her from infancy to not tell a soul who her father actually was. He was Italian. Always Italian. Never Indian. She squeezed Gerard's hand again. 

"How have you been doing this?" Jamia asked. 

"I shared my situation with a friend who arranged...assistance, but I insisted from the first that the only people who would be targeted were my father's false friends and swindlers. And as I said, we have only one left. I know..." he looked at them both in turn. "I know two wrongs do not make a right, and certainly it has not brought me any happiness - but it has for Mikey. I started for him and I shall stop for him. But it means there is no hope for Frank and I. He deserves much more than me," Gerard said. "Someone who makes him happy." He continued looking at Jamia as he said it. 

"We all deserve to be happy," Lindsey insisted sharply enough that they both turned to her. "No matter our birth or sex or fortune or prospects or - anything. We all do. I cannot believe anything less."

He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it tenderly. "Yes. We do. But I know it's not meant to happen for Frank and I, so I shall find my happiness elsewhere." 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Gerard was still looking at Lindsey after he'd kissed her hand, so the sudden vise-grip around his wrist took him by surprise. Miss Nestor pulled him away from Lindsey, half up onto his feet, even, and in his surprise he scrambled up the rest of the way, only to feel her finger jab him hard in the chest. 

"Do you honestly think, knowing what I know now, that I would allow you to endanger _my best friend_?" 

"There is no danger," Gerard replied weakly. "That is - of course there is some - but we are nearly done." 

"Your best friend can make her own decisions," Lindsey added evenly, rising to her feet. She didn't sound overly upset, though, and Gerard bowed to her superior knowledge of the situation and hastily backed away, watching fascinated as she took Jamia's face in her hands. "Always defending me," she murmured.

"And I always will," Miss Nestor said fiercely and leaned forward to kiss Lindsey. "I love you," Miss Nestor said when she pulled back. "And since my sex precludes me from the ability to make you happy and keep you safe myself, I can only defend you against anyone who would endanger you."

Gerard couldn't even speak. He'd been so wrong, he could see, to tease Lindsey about Jamia as if it were simply a flirtation.

These two were more like he and Frank and clearly devoted to each other. "Miss Nestor," Gerard murmured. "This is the last, I promise you. I can't… I know my situation is not… that is, I can't guarantee that she would be happy. I can't guarantee anything except that I would try and that I would be honest."

"It is good enough for me," Lindsey added softly. "To try. To know someone cares about me enough to try. And he knows about you, dear heart. That is important too."

Miss Nestor pressed her forehead against Lindsey's and they breathed together for a moment before she pulled away, but kept an arm around Lindsey's waist. "We are all caught in this ridiculous web. You think I can make Frank happy, but can I when he loves you so?" 

"I've seen no evidence that he does, Miss Nestor," Gerard said quietly. "Only that he's deeply angry with me as is his right." 

"Jamia. You may as well use my name if we are going to be this familiar with each other," she said. "And do you really think that depth of anger doesn't also come with equally deep regard? That he would be this angry still if he _didn't_ love you?" 

Gerard swallowed. "I suppose not, but it's dangerous to allow myself to think of it. I cannot make him happy. Not after such a betrayal." 

"How do you know that?" she asked. "Have you asked him? How do any of us know what the future will hold?"

"If I had a crystal ball tucked away, one would only be able to hope I'd have used it to prevent this entire terrible mess," Gerard conceded. Jamia gave him a bit of a smile after that, and Lindsey came close enough to give him a kiss on the cheek.

"If you had a crystal ball, perhaps you would see things that surprise you. Perhaps you would see that it was me making you happy, or maybe you _can_ one day make Frank happy," she said. "We can't know anything except how we feel now."

"How do you feel now?" Gerard hazarded.

"I love Lindsey and I never stopped loving Frank from when I was a girl. And I find you to be fascinating and lovely," she replied. "And if Lindsey marries anyone, I would be happy for it to be you, despite my earlier misgivings. Perhaps I shouldn't propose on behalf of you, or accept on behalf of Lindsey," she added, looking chagrined. 

Lindsey laughed. "Always taking care of me, too. He ought to know what he is getting into. If he is getting into something," she added, with a wickedly raised eyebrow. 

Gerard bit his lip so he wouldn't laugh, making sure to meet Jamia's eyes steadily as he took her hand and kissed it, quite properly. "I'll take it as a compliment, my lady. Especially having narrowly escaped your wrath just now."

"It is one. Lindsey is very lucky to have your regard," Jamia murmured. 

"I could say the same of you," Gerard replied sincerely. Gerard had been distracted by Frank and Lindsey, but not enough to not notice how very lovely Jamia was with her large, beautiful eyes and ample bosom.

Lindsey laughed. "Jamia, you are always so polite." She wrapped her arms around Jamia's waist and pressed their cheeks together. "Look at him. He's a fine specimen of a young man, would you not agree?" 

"I said you were lucky, minx," Jamia told her with a put-upon sigh. "What more do you want?"

Gerard let his fingers trail up Jamia's arm. "Perhaps she wants us to be more impolite; in a broader sense than our verbal discourse, perhaps?" Jamia looked at him and raised an eyebrow, but he was fairly sure she was hiding no small amount of surprise. Gerard understood; such things were outside the ken of most anyone he could think of. He was rather taken aback by his own daring. "Miss Nestor, would you allow me the pleasure of joining you and Miss Ballato in a private tête-à-tête?" he asked very formally. 

"I believe one could describe this as a private tête-à-tête," Jamia replied, ignoring Lindsey when she huffed in Jamia's ear. "Tonight, my dear," Jamia replied, turning her head and kissing the corner of Lindsey's mouth. "On one condition." 

"Name it," Gerard said. 

"Tomorrow, you go confess to Frank."

"If he will see me, if he will listen, I will speak with him," Gerard said after a pause wherein his stomach churned and he wished for something to hold on to so as to keep his hands from clenching. The very thought was terrifying. The two of them - infinitely tempting.

Jamia tugged herself gently away from Lindsey and came over, rose up on her tiptoes and gave him a gentle kiss. "I will come with you and give you my support," she whispered. "But you must go."

Gerard nodded and let himself wrap his arms around Jamia's waist for a moment. She was warm and soft and he felt better when he pulled away. "I'm afraid I will need you terribly. It's been so long since I could… and he'll be angry. I know he will." 

"Likely," she agreed. "But he is already angry. Perhaps he will be something else as well. Crystal ball," she reminded him with a little smirk.

Gerard smiled and leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Crystal ball," he repeated. 

Lindsey stepped into the circle of his arms. "I promise to soothe you in whatever way you need when you return." 

"Well, then," Gerard said, "I shall need to make sure I return in one piece." As he kissed her, he heard the clock chiming in the main hall. 

"We ought to go dress for dinner," Jamia murmured.

Gerard nodded. "Then I shall see you both at supper." He leaned in to kiss them both on the cheek before making his way up to his room. He dressed carefully and Mikey entered the room halfway through, already dressed.

"Where have you been hiding yourself away, brother?" Mikey asked.

"Miss Lindsey and I went for a stroll about the gardens and a rainshower stuck us in the gazebo until it stopped. When we finally came back inside, we found Miss Jamia in the study and talked for quite some time," Gerard said. 

Mikey laughed. "I know when you are not telling the full story, so out with it. What has happened?"

"Nothing," Gerard answered. He was, as it happened, telling the truth. He crossed his arms over his chest.

Mikey raised an eyebrow. "And being caught in a gazebo with Miss Ballato in the middle of a rainstorm resulted in merely talking?"

"Well, then, not nothing. In that case. I was trying to be a gentleman, Mikey. But Lindsey doesn't seem to want to encourage me to be."

"I am glad, brother. You do seem somewhat troubled. Does Miss Nestor not approve of you for her friend?"

"She does, as a matter of fact," Gerard said. "They know the truth, Mikey."

"Oh," Mikey replied. "I expected that, sooner or later." 

"And Jamia is insisting I tell Frank," Gerard added.

"Oh!" Mikey said again. "That truth." 

"Both truths," Gerard corrected. "I fear that yes, Frank and I have been less than circumspect this week. As for the other, I can't… I can no longer allow him to hate me without knowing the full extent of it all. At least after tomorrow, he will know all and can judge me on all my faults," Gerard said with a sigh.

"Tomorrow?" 

"Jamia made me promise I would go tell him tomorrow." 

"Then I really ought to go as well," Mikey said.

Gerard took a breath. "I would be glad of your presence. Jamia said she would come support me as well. I fear I will need both of you to even find the courage to open my mouth." 

"That's not true," Mikey said. "You are very brave when you have a mind to be." 

"I suspect you mean talkative, but thank you." 

Mikey grinned at him. "That seems to have been a good deal of soul-baring, Gerard. Miss Ballato must be very special indeed to inspire all of that."

"I think I'm going to marry her, Mikey," Gerard said quietly. It seemed absurd that he would know this so quickly, but he'd had a feeling about her from their first moments of conversation. 

"It is my turn first, I believe," Mikey told him.

Gerard smiled. "Of course. And I will stand up for you proudly." Gerard finished buttoning his waistcoat and jacket and put on his shoes. He turned in front of the mirror a couple of times and ran his hands through his hair. Yes, that would do. 

*

Gerard believed that he had understood the word "interminable" before, but clearly he had been mistaken. Supper was interminable in a fashion he had rarely experienced until now. Especially since both Lindsey and Jamia looked impossibly lovely in their gowns. He could see a faint blush on Lindsey's bosom and realized it was from his own stubble. He could also see the faintest of pink marks on the underside of her jaw, and that was most decidedly not.

Gerard looked over to Jamia and she smirked at him. He noted that Jamia also bore a slightly pink mark just below her ear. Gerard wondered if it would be more vivid if he rubbed the spot with a handkerchief. He suspected so. 

It was a pleasant supper and Gerard had nothing but impatience for later. Despite this impatience, Gerard was glad of the distraction. Thinking about what might happen later between them was infinitely better than what might happen tomorrow with Frank. Jamia was diabolical. He was overcome with admiration. 

They finished supper and retired to the sitting room. Gerard feared this would be yet another interminable few hours, but he was proved wrong by a lively card game. Jamia and Lindsey retired first, and it was all Gerard could do to not leave the drawing room on their heels. He stayed and chatted with Sir Brian until he left for bed and then it was just him and Mikey left. 

"I, ah," Gerard said. Mikey laughed. 

"I know you. Go on, she'll be waiting." 

"She?" Gerard said mildly. 

"Gerard. I know you're not having a dalliance with Ray," Mikey said. 

"Not at all," Gerard answered. "But 'they' would be more correct. In this case." 

"Gerard, you devil," Mikey replied half admiring, half concerned. "I do hope you know what you're doing." 

"I was invited," Gerard replied. 

"So that would be a no," Mikey answered drily. "Very well. I'm off to town myself." 

"Bring her back with you one of these days," Gerard said softly. Mikey raised an eyebrow. "The girls know about her and she's part of our family, she deserves to be introduced as such. Ray will go along with anything, and I am certain Jamia will arrange things with Sir Brian." 

Mikey laughed. "As you wish. I'm off to the stable." He strolled off and Gerard walked to the stairs, heart pounding, counting doors. He knocked quietly on the door he was mostly certain was Jamia's and was relieved when she came to the door.

"We thought perhaps you'd changed your mind," she teased quietly as she locked the door behind him. "So we began on our own." 

Gerard took in the scene. Their hair was already down, their lips were shiny and red, and Lindsey's outer gown was already removed. He took a deep breath. "I find I don't mind. May I be of assistance?" he asked. 

"Take off her dress," Lindsey demanded. "She's been thwarting my attempts since we got up here." 

"Jamia," he whispered, stepping close enough to set hands on her shoulders. "Do you need assistance with your gown?" 

She licked her lips. "I would appreciate that, yes." 

Gerard pulled her close and kissed her first. He'd learned his lesson from Lindsey, went quickly past gentle to slow but demanding, and let her show him what she wanted. Jamia slid her tongue into his mouth and he moaned. He moved his hands down her back and crushed her against him, enjoyed the feel of her breasts against his chest. She twined her arms around his neck and Gerard smiled against her mouth. 

"Now, where were we?" 

He let his lips travel down her neck as his hands found her laces, loosening her gown and searching with his tongue for that pink mark on her neck he'd noticed earlier. Jamia gasped and he sucked a little bit harder, then moved down her shoulder and across her collarbones. He tugged at her shift and pulled back so he could pull it over her shoulders, looking into her eyes and noticing a sudden shyness that hadn't been there before. She wasn't really a virgin, he mused, stroking her cheek. But in ways she was. 

"You can say no, lovely girl," he told her. "Any time. But we'd like to see you." 

Jamia lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. "I want to be seen," she said. "Touched." 

He placed his hands on her bare waist and looked his fill, watched her nipples tighten under his gaze. "So lovely," he murmured, reaching up to brush his fingers over a nipple. She sucked in a breath and he repeated the action, cupped both in his hands and ran his thumbs over them. He couldn't stop himself bending down to suck one into his mouth. 

Jamia moaned sweetly, and he sucked gently, circling the point with his tongue, then straightening up and looking across the room at Lindsey. She was sitting up, one hand cupping a breast she had pulled out of her shift, the other just beginning to sneak beneath the skirt. "Are you enjoying yourself, sweetheart?" he asked. 

"Very much," she replied huskily. "Come here. Both of you." 

Gerard released Jamia and she went first, climbing into bed with Lindsey in a flurry of limbs and white linen, jostling and clinging more like puppies than anything else. He smiled. They were gorgeous together, lips moving against each other and hands wandering. He ran a hand down the front of his trousers and pressed, just once, before he started unbuttoning his jacket. He took some care draping his jacket and trousers over a chair - suits were dear, after all, and he was still largely poor - but his cravat and shirtfront he tossed impatiently aside, moving quickly to join them, drawing up by the edge of the bed when he saw Lindsey staring.

She licked her lips. "Yes," she murmured. "Much better than in books. A painting would do you no justice." She reached out to trail her fingers down his chest

He caught them, tugged her to her knees on the edge of the mattress. "No painting could do you justice either." He cupped his hand around Lindsey's neck under the fall of her hair and touched their lips together. His hand found her exposed breast and he rubbed his fingers over it, pinching the nipple lightly. She gasped into his mouth, but wouldn't let him pull away. As they kissed, Gerard pulled her shift down further, releasing her other breast from the confines of the fabric. 

"Do you have any idea how I felt at dinner tonight, looking at you and seeing the pink flush on your skin from my own kisses?" he whispered against her sternum.

She moaned. "Perhaps some. I saw you looking at the mark I left on Jamia," she replied. Gerard smiled and kissed down over her breasts. He slid his tongue over one nipple and then the other. She arched her back, and he slid his hands up under her shift, up her thighs to cup her bare bottom and pull her closer, sucking at the undersides of her breasts and then moving down.

He pushed the shift up around her waist and nudged her thighs further apart. He kissed her belly, the cut of her hips, the top of her thighs. "Gerard," she murmured and put a hand in his hair. He smiled against her skin and moved his mouth down, lightly brushing her inner thigh. He felt the mattress shift again and looked up; Jamia had come up behind her and pulled the fabric up over her head, wrapping arms around her waist from behind. Gerard obligingly waited until they were settled to kiss Lindsey again, tongue teasing at her folds.

Lindsey's hips twitched up, seeking his mouth. He gave it to her, alternating between sucking and flattening his tongue against her and giving her long, slow licks. Gerard could feel Lindsey running her fingers through his hair, and hear Jamia murmuring to her and her own unsteady breathing, interspersed with soft moans. He slid a hand up her thigh, pressing two fingers into her opening as he kept sucking gently at her sensitive flesh.

"Ohhhh," she moaned. "Oh, Gerard." He sucked harder, until she was gasping and moaning wordlessly and moving her hips up against his mouth and thrashing against Jamia. He stayed close and he could feel her release, taste it, and it sent an answering thrill through his body. God, how long had it been since he'd lost himself in a feeling like this one? 

He pushed himself to his feet, knowing he was hard, uncaring. He had to be closer to her. To both of them. He moved onto the bed beside them, kissed Jamia again, knowing he tasted of Lindsey. When he moved to kiss Lindsey, she reached out a hesitant hand and wrapped it around him. "Can I… will you. I want you."

"How do you want me?" he whispered back, voice catching as she started to stroke him experimentally.

"I want to feel you. I want you to take me," she whispered. He moaned. It had been entirely too long since he'd felt the wet heat of a woman.

"Very well," he answered. "You know this may hurt?" He had his doubts; between the wetness of his mouth and her own body, Gerard thought she was as ready as she was likely to get, and he could see - and feel - Jamia's fingers still stroking idly.

"I know," she replied breathlessly. "I want it." He let the fingers of one hand to join with Jamia's and used the other to take himself in hand. He knelt between her spread legs and pushed inside of her as slowly as he could. He watched her face, paused when he saw discomfort, but kept moving forward until he was inside her completely, until his chest was brushing against hers.

Gerard could do nothing for a moment but close his eyes and press his face against her neck. Too long. Entirely too long. When he thought he'd gotten himself under control, he began to move, and she gasped in surprise and, he hoped, pleasure. He could feel Jamia's fingers still moving against Lindsey and he lifted his head to kiss her over Lindsey's shoulder. He hoped Jamia would allow him to give her pleasure after. 

He moved his hips slowly, kissed Jamia again before moving his lips toward Lindsey's. She met them eagerly, curling a hand around the back of his neck and murmuring his name before slipping her tongue alongside his and kissing him in the rhythm of their hips moving together. She felt astonishing around him, against him. He thrust until he could barely breathe for pleasure and their kisses, until he knew he had to pull out. When he did, Lindsey's hand wrapped around him and she started stroking. 

He braced his hand by her waist and let his other hand join hers, showing her the rhythm he liked, and before long he was moaning her name as his eyes squeezed shut and his seed spilled onto her stomach, then blinking them open as she gasped and twisted underneath him, Jamia's fingers sending her into convulsions of release one more time.

Gerard crushed his lips to Lindsey's and kissed her hard. When he pulled back they exchanged a long look; she moved off of Jamia's body and Gerard moved to take her place. "I am not so spent that I can't also give you pleasure," he murmured and set his lips to her neck. 

He felt her fingers circle his wrist, and she guided his fingers between her legs. Lindsey's lips muffled the noise Jamia made when he found her slick and ready and slid his fingers inside of her. He closed his lips around one of her nipples and sucked as he thrust his fingers. When she finally gasped and arched up against his mouth, he released her with a small pop, slid his tongue down in the valley of her breasts and licked away the sweat there. He wished for just a moment that he could take her as well, that he could feel her around him and against him as he had Lindsey. He would, but only if she asked. Perhaps she wanted this and nothing more. 

Gerard moved his lips back to Jamia's neck. She tilted her chin up, but murmured with humor, "Do try not to force me into high-collared gowns. They're out of fashion." 

"That would be a shame, indeed," Gerard replied. 

"I am shocked she never noticed how frequently my eyes strayed, before," Lindsey added. Gerard laughed and Jamia huffed out a laugh of her own. He kissed his way back down over her collarbones, her sternum, and back to her breasts. 

"Perhaps I shall keep my attention on these. Would that suit, my lady?" 

"Yes," she gasped. God, she was so sensitive, nipple tightening immediately against his lips. He knew she would have her release soon and so he kissed and sucked and ran his tongue lightly over each breast in rhythm with his fingers thrusting inside her. He started brushing his thumb over her nub of sensitive flesh and had the pleasure of drawing his name from her lips. 

"Yes, lovely. Give me my name again. Once more." 

"Gerard," she moaned, then "Lindsey!" on a breathless gasp. Gerard thrust his fingers harder, swirled his tongue around the nipple in his mouth. She arched up and clenched around his fingers, gasping. 

"That's it, dear one," he could hear Lindsey whisper. 

Jamia shuddered and twined her hands in Gerard's hair, pulling him up for a kiss. He kissed her as she gradually stopped shaking. She tugged his wrist, pulled his fingers out of her and wrapped her arms around his neck. He felt Lindsey press up against her back and they all lay together for a while, as close as three bodies could be. Gerard was astonished at the depth of calm, of peacefulness he felt. "Perhaps tomorrow won't be quite so bad," he murmured after several moments. 

"He loves you," Jamia said. "But he can't get past his anger without an explanation." 

"Nor should he be expected to," Gerard replied. "And...now what? Do I stay?" 

"Stay at least for a while," Lindsey said and leaned over to kiss his shoulder. She got up then, and Gerard watched her lovely form as she wet a cloth in the basin and came back to them. She cleaned the mess from everyone and pulled the covers up over them. "Stay," she repeated." She wrapped herself around Gerard this time, and he buried his face in her hair and obeyed. Jamia curled up against his other side and he allowed sleep to overtake him. He'd have to sneak back to his room in a few hours, but for now, he had this. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Frank had planned on spending the morning in his office, catching up on correspondence. It was a surprise when his butler tapped on the door and announced Miss Nestor and the Misters Way. Frank stood and the butler ushered them in. 

"Jamia," Frank greeted with a smile. She looked lovely as ever. Gerard looked pale and pinched, but there had been something of that look about him each time Frank had seen him. Mikey seemed at peace in comparison. "Mikey, Gerard. This is a surprise." He sat back down at his desk after seating Jamia in a side chair. 

Gerard cleared his throat. "I have come to confess. Everything. You deserve that much." 

Frank swallowed. "And Mikey and Jamia needed to be here for that as well?" 

"I am here because I am part of it," Mikey said quietly. 

"And I am here because I care for you both and sometimes a friend can help grant courage," Jamia replied. 

Frank nodded. "Well. Tell your tale." 

Gerard took an audible breath. "You know the beginning. Father died and our fortune was lost. I never told you how or why, though." 

"No," Frank said as calmly as he could. "You did not." 

"First, there was gambling. He lost most of our fortune to that. When he came to his senses and realized what he had done, he turned to his friends and their business associates for help investing what little he had left," Gerard explained quietly. "That was a mistake. His friends supposed friends cheated him out of all we had left." 

"And more," Mikey added quietly from where he stood by the fireplace. 

"Mikey and I had no idea any if this had happened until Father died and we were attempting to sort out his affairs," Gerard continued. "I was... I'm ashamed to say that I let my regard for you distract me from seeing to family affairs, from speaking to my father about these matters. Perhaps I would have known, could have assisted, prevented some of this from happening to begin with." 

"That sounds dangerously close to 'this was your fault,'" Frank said darkly. 

"That is not what I meant at all. I meant that it was my fault," Gerard insisted. "I meant that I felt so guilty for everything, for shirking my responsibilities, that for a time, the feeling of joy thoughts of you brought me only served to make me feel ill. I should have told you all this. I know that." Gerard blinked rapidly and sucked in another audible breath. 

"You damn well should have!" Frank shouted. 

"And what if the debt collectors' men had gone after you?" Gerard shouted back. "They didn't show much goddamned delicacy as it was! I sold everything except Elena's house and it still wasn't enough, Frank." Gerard lifted his chin to point at a scar on his neck. "That was from when a thug came to threaten me and his knife slipped." 

Frank kept himself from moving - barely - but not from making a ragged noise. Jamia echoed it with a softer sound of distress. Gerard closed his eyes and Frank let himself stare for a moment. Without opening his eyes, Gerard started speaking again. 

"I wasn't going to allow anyone else to come to harm, so I had to do something to fix it myself. So when a friend approached me with a solution, I took him up on it." 

" _We_ took him up on it," Mikey said and Gerard finally opened his eyes to look at Mikey. "It was Dewees," Mikey told Frank. "Gerard went to him in the midst of all this." 

"Ah," Frank said. That could mean several things, but Frank was beginning to have suspicions.  
"He had a plan to get back at father's so-called friends. By stealing from them," Gerard said. He looked Frank dead in the eye when he said it. 

"You lied to me, left me bloody heartbroken, and turned criminal?" Frank didn't even know what else to say. He wanted to punch Gerard in his beautiful damned face. 

"Yes. They could do whatever they wanted to me. I didn't do a single bit of this for me. I did it for Mikey. Because he deserved a good life and that was the only way to give it to him." He paused. "I won't say the opportunity for some revenge was unwelcome, but it was always, always for Mikey." 

"Not just me," Mikey added. "We gave the lion's share of our cut to charity. I promise you, Frank." 

"It's still stealing," Frank told him, turning away.  
"And two wrongs do not make a right," Jamia added softly. "I believe they know that." 

"We're stopping. There's one more mark and we're done," Gerard said. "He's the worst of the lot and after that, there will be just enough money to buy Mikey a house." 

Frank was still facing the windows. He didn't know if he could turn around, look them in the face. Any of them. Gerard had clearly gotten Jamia to take his part somehow. 

"I cannot approve of this," he said in a low voice. "It appears I was right not to trust your sudden reappearance in my life." 

"That is your choice," Gerard murmured. His voice was shaky. "I wanted you to know. I wanted you to know it was never because I didn't... because I stopped... anyway. Now you know. I will take my leave." 

"Yes," Frank gritted, shoulders stiff. "Leave me." He could not turn, or he feared he would weep like a child, or...something. The door snicked shut and Frank's shoulders dropped. He leaned his forehead against the window and breathed through his nose until he felt and saw a small hand on his forearm. 

"Frank," Jamia murmured. Frank turned and pulled her into his arms. He pressed his face into her shoulder. 

"He told you everything. Really everything?" Frank murmured. 

"He did. Actually, he told you a little more than he told me. I won't tell you that you should accept what he's doing or anything of the sort, that's entirely up to you. But I think..." she trailed off and stroked her hands over his shoulders to cup his cheeks. "I think you would feel better if you tried to give him another chance." 

He kissed her instead, leaned right in and bridged the distance between them with a press of lips. She kissed him back, wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close. These were not the kisses of a fourteen year old girl, but of a woman entirely sure of herself. 

"Frank," she whispered. 

"I'm sorry," he whispered back. "Was that terribly improper of me?" 

"That will never be improper," Jamia told him. 

"Good," he replied. "You have been my joy these last weeks." 

"I want to be that for you always," she replied softly. But he sensed hesitation. 

"Is there something that would stop you from doing so?" Frank asked quietly. 

"I think, for both of us, there would always be another in our minds. I am not decrying that, merely - it is merely the truth." 

"Who?" Frank asked, though he was fairly certain he knew. 

"I wouldn't run away from school for just anyone," Jamia said with a soft smile. 

"I would hardly deny you your dearest friend," Frank said hesitantly, "Though I would try my hardest... As your..." He stopped, unsure. 

"And if Lindsey and Gerard marry, as I suspect they may?" Jamia asked. 

"I wouldn't... I. Jamia, I hardly know how to... I needed him to leave so I could think, but I don't know where those thoughts will lead. I promise, I would never stop you from seeing them." Frank sighed heavily and pressed his cheek against hers. "I don't know what to do... It's so much to take in. I love you," he added softly. 

"I love you, Frank Iero," Jamia whispered in his ear. "I never stopped." 

"That is one silver lining," he said, kissing her again. "Are they waiting for you?" 

"They likely are, but if you would like me to stay, I shall send them home," Jamia replied. 

"I fear I would be tempted to be very improper if you stayed, love," he told her. 

She pulled away and smirked at him. "Perhaps I would encourage your impropriety." 

"Perhaps you shouldn't tempt me." 

"What if that is my purpose?" Jamia said with a coy smile. 

"We don't have time for that before you'll be expected back. Because I would want to take my time," Frank finally said. 

"I would want you to as well." She leaned up for one more kiss. "I suppose you must use that time for thinking instead." 

He sighed. "I should." 

"Think about what I said," Jamia said gently. "He hasn't stopped loving you and I think you should take that into account." 

"I will." Frank kissed her hand this time and saw her to the door, where a footman whisked her off to, presumably, wherever he'd ensconced Gerard and Mikey to wait. 

He sat down in one of the chairs and heaved a sigh. He had expected all sorts of explanations from Gerard. He never expected to be told his love had turned to crime. Frank knew that he would see the thin white scar on Gerard's neck in his sleep that night. He could see it now when he closed his eyes, and his blood ran hot with the desire to beat bloody whoever had done such a thing. 

He knew this reaction meant something. Knew Jamia was right. That his life would be better if he could just forgive Gerard. But it made bile rise in his throat to think about it. Why couldn't he just have courted Jamia and married her, without knowing all of this? 

_There would still be Lindsey,_ he thought. Lindsey, who was entirely lovely and would obviously be part of his life if Jamia was part of his life. Which he absolutely intended to be the case. Lindsey, who Jamia loved. He sighed. It was too much to think about. Entirely too much.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Gerard helped Jamia into the carriage. When he climbed in after, she immediately took his hand and squeezed. She knew he would be distressed. "You did well," she told him. 

"I said the same thing," Mikey told her, stepping up after Gerard and signaling to the coachman. "He has been reciting his words back and forth to try to convince himself he couldn't have done better." 

"You did well, Gerard," she repeated. "He promised me that he would think carefully, that he would remember both your feelings before deciding anything." 

"Truly, I don't know that there is anything to decide," Gerard replied, turning his hand over to interlace their fingers. 

"Gerard, he loves you. And you love him. There is much to decide," Jamia said. He did not believe her, she could tell. Perhaps he was satisfied with having finally told Frank the truth. But she knew matters were not resolved just yet. 

She held his hand until they reached home. Lindsey was waiting in the entry and embraced Gerard. Jamia stood close as Lindsey pressed her forehead to his and murmured her own assurances. Mikey had been quiet in the carriage, but Jamia imagined he had said what he needed to say while they had waited. She wasn't quite done, though. She whispered into Lindsey's ear, and Lindsey murmured into Gerard's. Then they all three turned for the stairs.

Jamia opened the door to her bedroom and ushered them both inside. Lindsey sat Gerard on the bed and Jamia sat on his other side. "I am not so... you needn't coddle me. I... I expected his reactions," he protested. 

"That doesn't mean they were not hard to bear," Lindsey said. Gerard nodded, expression rueful, and leaned against Lindsey. Jamia wrapped an arm around Gerard's waist and leaned her chin on his shoulder. 

"I do hope he can find in in himself to forgive me one day. But I neither expect nor deserve it." 

"I think you do," Jamia told him. 

He lifted the hand holding his to his lips. "That you think so means more to me than I can say." 

"I must ask," Gerard said a bit less seriously, "if there was a reason you brought me up here to say it instead of in the parlor." 

"Because words can only comfort so much and touch can be a balm to the soul," Lindsey replied. Jamia leaned across Gerard to kiss her. Lindsey reached up to cup Jamia's cheek and Jamia lifted her hand to Gerard's waist. 

Gerard laughed. "Do not worry, I will not let you fall. I would much rather watch these proceedings." 

"Perhaps I wanted to touch you," Jamia murmured and lean in to kiss him briefly. "But if you would like to watch, perhaps we can move into more comfortable positions for it." 

"Yes, let's," said Lindsey, standing and drawing Gerard to his feet. She led him over to the head of the bed and he settled himself obligingly against the pillows. She came back to Jamia with a smile on her face, hands settling onto her waist. 

"I talked to Frank. After," she whispered as she pressed her lips to Lindsey's neck. "He knows about us." 

"Us, or all of us?" Lindsey whispered back. 

"Just us," Jamia whispered and reached around Lindsey's back. "I didn't think it wise at that moment." 

"Always so wise," Lindsey said, tipping her chin up so Jamia could kiss her neck. Jamia could - and did - work on her laces by feel, so that when her mouth drifted down Lindsey's bodice drifted with it. Lindsey released a little moan when Jamia sucked lightly at the top of her breast. She pulled Lindsey's shift up and over her head. 

"You're so beautiful," Gerard said hoarsely from his spot by the headboard. 

"Isn't she?" Jamia murmured against Lindsey's skin. "Especially when she's hungry for fingers and mouths." 

"No wonder you tease so," Lindsey said breathlessly. 

Jamia lifted an eyebrow at Lindsey and slid a hand between her legs. "Only a little." 

"Enough to - oh," she trailed off. 

Jamia smirked as she thrust her fingers deep inside Lindsey and rubbed her palm against Lindsey's sensitive flesh. Really, she wanted more than this, but Lindsey was right, she did love to tease at first. "Linds," she whispered, "Go lean against Gerard." 

Lindsey squeezed her legs together around Jamia's hand before moving to do as Jamia told her. Gerard spread his legs and seemed quite happy to have Lindsey sit between them and lean back in his arms. He cupped her breasts with his hands and mouthed her neck. Jamia smiled, satisfied that they were occupying each other well enough and set about wriggling out of her own gown. 

It wasn't until she had her gown off that she realized they were staring at her. She bit her lip and pulled her shift off. They licked their lips at the same time and Jamia had to laugh. "Look your fill," she told them teasingly. "I have other matters to attend to." 

She crawled up on the mattress, slid her hands up the insides of Lindsey's thighs. Lindsey spread her legs, hooking her ankles over Gerard's calves. Jamia kissed her hips, up her belly to her breasts; she licked and sucked each before pressing her lips, her body to Lindsey's, close enough that she could feel Gerard's hands against her as well as Lindsey. 

"Missed you this morning," Lindsey mumbled. "Jamia, dearest one, please." 

Jamia pulled back, kissed Gerard's fingers, then sucked at Lindsey's nipples again until they were drawn up tight. "She wanted you to take her again," Jamia said against Lindsey's stomach. "She had to settle for my fingers." 

"Not settle," Lindsey insisted. "Love your fingers." 

"I imagine it was beautiful," Gerard murmured. "Though I miss the feel of you, sweetheart." Lindsey moaned. 

"I'm sure she won't object to you feeling her again," Jamia said, flattened her tongue and swiped it up and down Lindsey, dipping inside her and swirling around her folds. She loved everything about this. The taste and scent and sound of Lindsey, lovely and wanton. The feel of graceful, strong fingers in her hair. She knew just how to do it now. How to move her tongue to make Lindsey moan and shake. 

When Gerard's fingers slid down to rub over Lindsey, Jamia licked between and around them. She smirked at his moan and added her own fingers, sliding them into Lindsey and thrusting gently, moaning a little at how wet she was already. If she could talk, she'd have told Gerard how ready Lindsey was for him, how smooth and hot and wet she was. But she didn't want to stop licking, stop sucking. 

Gerard's hands slid into view, caressing Lindsey's thighs and pulling them wide. Jamia heard Lindsey moan and glanced up to see Gerard biting at her ear. She concentrated her mouth on the one spot she knew would bring Lindsey's release. She sucked and teased with her tongue and sucked more until Lindsey was bucking up against her mouth and moaning loud. She thrust her fingers as deep as she could and felt Lindsey's body pulse around them, and kept licking slowly, gently, until Lindsey's writhing had slowed to a quiet whimper or two. 

"Come here," Gerard murmured and Jamia moved up Lindsey's body and kissed him over her shoulder. He moaned when their lips touched and immediately slipped his tongue inside her mouth. 

"Yes," Lindsey breathed. She surely knew what Gerard was doing, licking Lindsey's wetness from Jamia's lips. And kissing her. Kissing her so expertly. Jamia suddenly flashed back to Frank's mouth that morning. These lips had taught him to kiss that way, she was certain. 

"I want to touch you," she gasped against Gerard's lips. "To taste you." 

"Yes," he murmured. "Do what you will with me." 

Lindsey tugged her in for a brief kiss and then they both moved and turned to face Gerard. He was utterly disheveled, but still mostly clothed. Jamia could see that he was hard through his trousers and reached out to run her fingers lightly over the bulge. Even as she took in the sight of Gerard, mussed and flushed and panting for them, she still thought of Frank. She wanted Gerard, wanted Gerard to take her, but she'd held back before and she would now. Because something in her wanted Frank to be the first. He should be here now, Jamia thought. But she merely slid a hand up to Gerard's buttons. She hadn't touched Gerard very much the night before and Lindsey seemed content to let her do so now. 

Jamia opened his trousers and tugged them down his legs. He leaned forward for her so she could get his shirt off and then there he was, naked and bare in front of her. She reached out and took his cock in hand. Hot, silky, hard, she could imagine what it would feel like inside her, and she automatically squeezed her thighs together. She slid her other palm up his pale stomach. She rubbed her fingers over the soft skin there and he shivered. She moved her hand up and stroked over his chest, rubbed his nipples lightly. He sucked in a breath at that. "Oh, I see," she smiled. "Lindsey?" 

"Yes, dear heart," Lindsey grinned, leaning down to lick over one of Gerard's nipples. Jamia sucked on the other lightly. As Lindsey moved her mouth up to his neck, Jamia moved down, lips trailed over his stomach and down until she settled herself between his legs. She wrapped her hand around his cock again and leaned forward to lick over the head. It was good. It was - she wanted more, wanted all the noises he'd make. She took the head in her mouth, slowly but trying not to hesitate. 

He felt huge and strange in her mouth, but he moaned loud the first time she sucked on the head and she had to have more of him. "Jamia," he whispered, and she felt his fingers touch hers, wrapping both their hands around the base and starting to move them. She took more of him in, until her lips met their fists and rotated between swirling her tongue around and sucking. 

She felt Lindsey's lips at the corner of her mouth and pulled back to watch Lindsey's mouth take the place of hers. Gerard rubbed the thumb of his free hand over Jamia's lips and she sucked it into her mouth. He moaned softly, and when she licked up his shaft, tongue brushing against Lindsey's at the head, he moaned louder. 

"Enough, enough." They both pulled away, but only just. He was panting and staring down at them. "I was close. I'm not ready. Not yet. And Lindsey wanted..." 

"I do," Lindsey replied. "Very much. But I want to taste Jamia too." 

"I can wait," Jamia said weakly. Maybe if she touched herself a bit, she - 

"I can think of a way we can...." Gerard took a deep breath. "Lie down, sweetheart." Lindsey did as he said, stretching out on the mattress. Jamia went to curl at her side and Gerard said, "Just wait." He took her hands and tugged her gently. "Swing your leg over and settle yourself over her mouth. You won't hurt her, I promise." 

Jamia bit her lip and did as he said. He held her steady and suddenly she could feel Lindsey's hot breath against her. She took a deep breath and looked at Gerard. He let go of her hands and reached out to cup Lindsey's breasts. 

"Taste her, Lindsey," he whispered. Suddenly she could feel Lindsey's tongue against her, inside her, and she could rock down against it, and with Lindsey's hands on her thighs Lindsey could hold her steady, even as - she felt Lindsey's gasp as Gerard eased her thighs wide and entered her in a slow, controlled thrust. 

Gerard leaned forward then and kissed Jamia as he moved his hips slow and steady into Lindsey. He cupped her breasts, brushed his thumbs over her nipples. Jamia gasped at the motion of his fingers, the heat and suction of Lindsey's mouth, increasing in insistence as Gerard thrust harder. Gerard's tongue was doing wicked things in her mouth and she had a flash of it being him in Lindsey's place. Her hips stuttered and she moaned. She wanted it all. She was weak for anyone who tugged on her nipples like he was doing, and he was kissing underneath her ear as well. 

"Gerard. Oh, oh, Lindsey," she moaned as Lindsey sucked on her hard. She couldn't stop herself grinding down against Lindsey's mouth. Gerard moaned against Jamia's neck and he moved to pull out. 

Jamia wrapped her hand around his cock and stroked. He was slick from Lindsey and so hard and wanting. Lindsey's mouth and tongue were making it difficult for Jamia to breathe, but she still managed to stroke Gerard, to watch his face as he got closer and closer to release. He gasped wordlessly as he spilled into her hand, and she pressed close to kiss along his collarbones, moaning when Lindsey sucked harder at her sensitive flesh. Gerard's arms wrapped around her, held her close as she gasped into his shoulder. 

When Lindsey moved her hand and slid her fingers inside Jamia, she fell over the edge, loud moans muffled only by Gerard's skin. "Linds," she whimpered into his shoulder, trying to climb back to her side. 

Gerard shushed her and steadied her, but said softly, "Lie down with her and let me." 

Jamia nodded, but lifted her face to kiss him again before she moved. She sprawled over Lindsey and kissed her, tasted herself on Lindsey's lips. She felt Gerard's hand on her thigh, but didn't pay it any mind until he was licking into her, sliding his tongue gently over her, and moving up to kiss Lindsey, leaving Jamia gasping and panting. 

She felt Gerard's hand drift off her thigh, and a moment later Lindsey gave a muffled gasp. Jamia peeked and saw Gerard's fingers working between her legs, rubbing until Lindsey crested once more. He settled down on her other side and laced his fingers with Jamia's where they were resting in Lindsey's chest. 

"You two have quite the method of providing comfort, 'tis true," he joked after a while. 

"I have always advocated turning my attention to something else when upset," Jamia murmured and squeezed his fingers. 

He leaned in and kissed them both. "And now, to dress and go speak with Ray." 

They watched Gerard dress. He kissed them both once more and left the room. A few moments after he closed the door behind him, Lindsey took a deep breath and Jamia lifted her head to look her in the eye. 

"Mother says I should marry as soon as I can. That propriety will only allow Sir Brian to host me for so long. But if I go home - and she can't prevent her husband from coming to fetch me home forever - then I lose my opportunity to make my own choice." 

"Uncle will not allow him to take you, dear." 

"I know. But I don't want to be a burden and he has already done more for me than I could ever repay," Lindsey murmured. 

"Uncle Brian adores you," Jamia said. "You're not a burden." It was true. Uncle Brian found Lindsey to be a delight. "You are a part of this family - my family. And a lovely man wants to marry you. I do worry, though. You will have no fortune." 

"I worry too. But I would rather struggle with him than have riches with another," Lindsey said. "Perhaps that is very young and foolish of me to say." 

"It is a brave thing to say. And that is one thing I know you are." She touched her fingers to Lindsey's lips. 

Lindsey kissed her fingers and murmured, "I love you." 

"And I love you," Jamia said. "What did you and Frank speak about? Are you... would he...?" 

"It seems," Jamia said slowly, "that his feelings for me are still strong." 

"I am glad for you," Lindsey replied sweetly. 

"He's a very good kisser now," Jamia added with a sly grin. "And I think I know just where he learned it." 

"So naughty," Lindsey whispered, nuzzling her neck. "Jamia, dear heart, I... Must we stop this, when we are both wed?" 

"When I told him about us, he promised that should he and Gerard never repair things between them, he would never keep us apart," Jamia whispered. 

"Very sweet," Lindsey replied. A kiss followed, and Jamia tilted her head to encourage it. "But how will they tolerate it, if they cannot be in the same room?" 

"I don't believe it will come to that," Jamia replied. "For all his anger, I don't think Frank can resist Gerard or vice versa. They love each other entirely too much for that." 

"Do you think they will come back together?" 

"I hope so. They seem rather lost without one another," Jamia said. "Which is not to say I think their regard for us would falter because of it. But they are part of each other." 

"So now we wait. And help Gerard and Mikey." 

"Yes," Jamia said. "Wait. I don't know how much we can help them, but I'm willing." Jamia sighed and got out of bed, fetching her gown and shift. 

She and Lindsey helped each other dress, then went downstairs in search of the family. Jamia was about to go into the study with Lindsey when she stopped. There was only one place she wanted to be in this moment, and that was where Frank was. "Dearest, if I... took out a horse and went to the Iero estate for the afternoon, would you be very cross with me?" she asked Lindsey. 

"Cross? No, though I shall certainly miss you. Also I fear I am indeed a terrible depraved influence on you," Lindsey teased. Jamia laughed and leaned in to kiss her cheek quickly. 

"I believe I was the one to kiss you first. A proper kiss, anyway." 

"I shall want another when you return," Lindsey told her. 

"I will give you all the kisses you desire," Jamia promised with a grin and returned to their rooms to don her riding habit. 

Her stomach was all knots as she rode through the wood. Not only was she taking an important step, she was increasingly convinced she must tell the whole truth as well. She didn't know how Frank would react to any of it, particularly after the morning meeting. She could only hope he would take it in stride as he had everything else. 

A groom took her horse when she clattered into the stableyard and pointed at the kennel when she inquired after Frank. She took a deep breath as she opened the door of the kennel and stepped inside. The yammering of dogs greeted her and she smiled. She found Frank in the stall with the puppies, just as she expected. 

"Jamia?" he said questioningly. 

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since I left," she answered quietly. 

He smiled slightly. "I have been rather taken up by thoughts of you as well. I... am very glad you're here." 

"I hope you continue to be glad after we - after I -" she wrung her hands. "I owe you complete honesty, I think." 

Frank frowned deeply. "The last time someone said that to me, to say I was displeased with the following conversation would be an understatement." 

"Frank, I know. And I'm -" Jamia subsided into the straw and scooped up a puppy. "You were my first kiss. The first time I felt what I know now to be desire, it was thinking of you. Then I went away to school, and I still thought of you. But I thought of someone else as well. I thought it would be a secret forever. Certainly no one had ever told me it was even a possibility, or remotely proper. But I loved her anyway." 

"I understand that," Frank said. He sounded confused. 

"When she found the man she is sure to marry, our positions being what they are, I could be nothing but pleased for her. But perhaps, despite my best efforts, I was still a touch jealous or upset about it. Because when she asked me to join them, I could not say no," she finished. 

"Join them," he repeated slowly, and she could see the effort it cost him to say nothing more. 

"Frank, I have felt his touch, and he mine, and I won't deny that I enjoyed it very much, that I like Gerard very much," she murmured. "But I held something back. Because it was for you and you alone. Because you were my first love and my first kiss and I love you still." 

"I - Jamia," he said thickly. "I love you. You are so beautiful and so kind and I already knew I had to share you. And -" 

"You said you would want to take your time. So take it. Be my first." 

"I... I stink of dog," Frank said and then laughed at himself. "I would be honored, Jamia. I want so much to... to do right by you. I want to marry you. I want to build our _lives_ together." 

"I want that as well," Jamia murmured. "But for right now, will you take me inside?" She smirked at him. "And perhaps you can take care of the dog smell." 

He laughed again and took her hand. "Let's go up to the house." 

She let him pull her to her feet, and they slipped out of the puppy stall and walked hand in hand through the stable. 

"The puppies are nearly ready," he told her. "You still want the runt?" 

"More than anything," she teased meaningfully. 

He squeezed her hand. "She will be yours, of course. Just as I shall be." 

Frank led her through the kitchen, snagging a large kettle off the fire and holding a finger up to his lips. He led her up a small back stairway and through a maze of passages, and they didn't pass a soul. 

"Learning to sneak past the servants has its uses," he whispered. 

She grinned at him. "Sneak out often, do you?" 

"There was a lovely girl, you see. A few years ago. We met in the woods," Frank murmured back. 

"Sounds like a hoyden to me," she replied, going a little breathless when he tugged her into a room that proved to be the master suite. 

"My parents turned it over to me," he murmured as he crossed to the wash basin and filled it with warm water from the kettle. "She was a bit of a hoyden," he added. "It's probably why I liked her." Jamia leaned in and kissed him then, he caught her around the waist and pulled her close. "Yes, that's exactly why I liked her," he whispered against her lips. "And why I love her now." 

"You do smell a bit like dog," she told him seriously, lips twitching when he broke into helpless laughter. 

"Message received," he said, retrieving a flannel and a piece of soap from the shelf of the washstand and stripping out of his coat, then his shirt as she watched, fascinated. He caught her gaze in the small mirror above the basin and the look he gave her might have made her blush if she had any shame about this. Instead, she sat at the edge of his bed and watched as he wet the cloth and washed his arms, his chest, and up to his neck and face. "Am I pleasing to watch, love?" he asked. 

"You are," Jamia replied. "Are you nearly done? I would like to do so much more than watch you." She could watch him for hours, broad shouldered, trim hipped, small and lean but strong. Her skin tingled just being near him and suddenly he was very near, leaning down wrapping an arm around her shoulders. 

"Is this better?" he asked. 

"Mmm, yes," she replied and brushed her lips against the corner of his mouth. "Perhaps you should see about my habit and gown now." 

"Perhaps, perhaps I will." His hands were gentle, and he scarcely fumbled a single button. Soon she was down to her shift and Frank's hands were sliding up and down her sides. Each touch sent a shiver through her body that ended with a pulse between her legs. 

"Frankie," she murmured. "Please, more." 

"I am taking my time, as requested," he said against her neck. His fingers sliding over her mound made her moan out loud, the tug and slide of fine linen exquisite, his fingers more so. Finally, he pulled back far enough to pull her shift up over her head. His hands fell to her waist and he sat, staring at her. "If I had the words of a poet or the skill of an artist, perhaps I could communicate how beautiful you are." 

"Not necessary," she whispered. "Just touch me." 

She knelt and leaned in to unbutton his trousers, and he cupped her cheek and moved his hand back to slide around her neck and up into her hair. When she got his trousers unbuttoned, he lay back and lifted his hips and she pulled them and his drawers down his legs. "Come back up here," Frank whispered. Jamia slid up his body, bare skin against bare skin, and they let out twin sighs as she settled on his chest.

She could feel him against her belly, feel how hard he was for her. She knew it would probably hurt, but she didn't care. She wanted him, wanted to be that close, to be filled up by him, surrounded by him. Despite his words, Frank wasted no time possessing her mouth, a more urgent kiss than the ones that had come before, his tongue shamelessly mimicking the act to come. His hands tightened in her hair as she moved her hips experimentally against him, following his rhythm.

He moved his lips down her neck, stopping to suck just below her ear and then rolled her onto her back. He moved his lips down further to lick the hollow of her throat and brought his hands up to cup her breasts. He licked a stripe between them before wrapping his lips around one of her nipples. She moaned and ground her hips up against him. 

"So gorgeous," he muttered against her skin. "Jamia, love, I want to -" He trailed off, kissing her again until words didn't matter, trailing his mouth down her stomach, biting gently at the soft flesh under her belly button, licking the jut of her hipbone. Her legs fell open for him and he slid his tongue through her folds, into her, but avoided the one spot she wanted it most. "So wet for me already," he murmured. 

"Want you so much," she whispered. 

"Soon," he promised. "First, I want you even more ready for me."

His mouth was utterly distracting. So different from Lindsey's, but so good, the silky prickle on her thighs from his stubble making her squirm even as the pressure of his tongue made her gasp and buck. Then he slid fingers inside her and sucked the spot where her pleasure centered and she moaned and cradled his skull. His hair was silky under her fingers and against her skin.

He stroked his fingers in and out of her as his tongue and lips kept at her folds, the spot of sensitive flesh between them. "Frank," she gasped. He kept sucking, kept moving his fingers and tongue. She was so close, so very close to release and all it took was one more stroke of his tongue in time with his fingers for her back to arch and for her to start gasping and shuddering against his mouth.

"Now you're ready," Frank panted against her thigh. "You taste so good, love." He levered himself up and braced a knee next to her thigh, spitting into his palm and taking himself in hand as she watched, fascinated.

She took a deep breath as he lined up and gasped when he pressed against her. There was an uncomfortable pressure and it did hurt, but she didn't want him to stop, she wanted more, wanted to know what it was that Lindsey clearly loved so much. She clutched his shoulders and pulled him closer and he slid in further. 

"Relax," he said, sounding breathless but intent. "Trust me." If Jamia concentrated, she could control her breathing and, to some degree, the tension of her body, and soon she was fuller than she had ever thought she could be, gasping a little at the sensation. His hips stopped moving when they were flush with hers and he kissed her again. "Jamia," he moaned against her lips. 

She wrapped her arms around his neck. She could feel herself growing accustomed to him, to the feeling of fullness. "Frank. Oh. You feel… I…" 

"It gets even better," he mumbled, and as soon as the tension in her arms relaxed a bit, he started thrusting again, and she had to squeeze her eyes shut against the explosion of sparks from everywhere their bodies touched - but especially from where he was moving inside her. She moaned and started moving her hips with his, wanting to be as close as possible, wanting the feel of his body against hers, the feel of him moving inside her. He buried his face in her neck and kept thrusting. She knew he was being careful, being gentle with her. She didn't mind, not now, but she could tell she would want less of that sometime very soon. 

Jamia could feel the tension running through him as she ran her hands up and down his back, arching to let him mouth at her neck and breasts even as he kept moving, gentle but insistent, the steady drag of skin on skin rubbing her sensitive skin and driving her higher with him. He licked a long wet stripe along the underside of her breast and slid a hand between them, and then she had his fingers, too, and she gasped his name.

His fingers were strong and sure and he rubbed over her without pause, with the same gentleness as his hips; insistent, demanding she find release again. She did, moaning, her arms tightening around his neck. He echoed her moan and kept thrusting. "You feel astonishing," he whispered in her ear and then pulled back and out of her. She whimpered. 

"Someday," he said roughly. "Someday I will give you everything." Then she understood, whispering his name and dropping a hand to help stroke his shaft, following his rhythm until he let go, let her finish him on her own as he braced himself above her and spilled on her stomach. She wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and pulled him down. She kissed him until she couldn't breathe, until she had to pull back and gasp in great lungfuls of air. 

"Frank," she finally whispered. "I love you." 

"I love you so much," he replied. "I can't tell you what it means, to have you here."

"I would be nowhere else," Jamia said softly. 

Frank kissed her again. This time slow and soft and gentle. When he pulled back, he pressed his forehead to hers. "I am going to buy you a ring and I am going to ask you to marry me. As soon as I can," he breathed. 

"You can ask me now," she pointed out. 

"You deserve the ritual," he told her. "You deserve the best I can give you." 

"You are the best you can give me," she said with a gentle laugh.

He smiled and kissed her again. "I love you." 

"I know," she whispered. 

"I don't want you to leave," he murmured. "I want you to stay always."

"I believe that would strain the bounds of propriety a bit farther than I am willing," Jamia said sadly. "But you will have me soon enough, love." 

"You have them," Frank said as they both cleaned up and re-dressed, the first time he'd brought up the topic since they'd come inside. Jamia took a deep breath, but responded with her first rejoinder anyway. 

"You could have them too," she reminded him. Frank closed his eyes tight and breathed for a moment before opening them again. "I wasn't lying when I said there was nowhere else I'd rather be. I always want you near. When I'm with them, I think of you, wish you were with us." 

"You ask too much," Frank said. 

"I ask for nothing," Jamia replied, slipping her feet back into her shoes and checking her reflection in the looking glass. Passable. "Except a puppy," she amended, hoping to lighten the mood. "But you offered."

He smiled weakly. "That I did. Jamia, I…" 

"When you ask me to marry you, I will say yes with a glad heart," she said and stepped close to him. She took both of his hands and looked in his eyes. "I will marry you and I will settle into this great house of yours and help you care for your dogs and one day bear your children, I am sure. And I will be happy. But can you be truly happy yourself if you bear a grudge against Gerard that you cannot let go?" 

"You are obnoxiously tenacious," he told her. 

She smiled, and it was perhaps a bit smug. "You are the one who wants to marry me."

He sighed and rolled his eyes, but she knew it was an affectation. "More fool me." 

She laughed and leaned up to kiss him. "Sneak me back out again. I have many things yet to accomplish today." 

Frank did as she asked, and when she returned to the May estate Jamia was somehow unsurprised to find Lindsey loitering rather obviously in the music room, which was near to the door leading to the stables.

"Hello, beautiful," she murmured when she got close. Lindsey beamed at her. 

"Hello. Do you return engaged, dear one?" 

"Nearly," Jamia replied and hooked her hand in the crook of Lindsey's arm as they walked toward their rooms. "He seemed to think he needed a ring and a pretty speech for the occasion. I assured him that wasn't necessary, but he insisted."

"I have no idea why people say men are the sensible sex," Lindsey said with a sigh. 

"Men say that," Jamia replied, and Lindsey laughed. 

"Is that all that happened...didn't happen..."

Jamia laughed and leaned close to whisper, "Well, he said that after we'd done many wicked deeds." 

Lindsey was perhaps about to demand more information, but a voice called to them from a room they were passing. They found Uncle Brian in one of the small sitting rooms. 

"You're not working, Uncle?" Jamia asked. 

"I am taking a well-earned break for tea and biscuits. Shall I tell the maid to bring enough for three?" he asked with a smile. 

"Yes, that sounds lovely," Jamia said. Uncle Brian proceeded to pass Lindsey the newspaper and tell her about an article he was reading. When the footman arrived with the tea tray, he also handed Uncle Brian a stack of letters. He flipped through them. 

"Hmm," he murmured and pulled one from the stack. "Haven't heard from Richardson in an age. Wonder what it is. Ah, delightful," he added with a grin after he set the envelope aside. "It's an invitation for the household to a ball at his estate. It's been too long since I've had the opportunity to dance." 

Jamia frowned. She was nearly certain the Richardsons were near neighbors to the person Gerard and Mikey needed to - she stopped herself before she plotted the entire event in her head, as she was wont to do. She would inform them and let them do their own plotting. "When, Uncle?" 

"Friday," he said. "Would you like to attend, dear?" 

Jamia glanced at Lindsey, who nodded. "Yes, please. Shall we inform Gerard and Mikey?" 

"Yes, do. They are part of this household until they leave us, after all," Uncle Brian replied. 

"That's very kind of you, sir," Lindsey said. 

"That reminds me, dear, have you had more word from your family?" Uncle Brian asked. 

Lindsey sighed. "Mother thinks I am safe here for the time being, but indicates I should marry soon if I can." 

"I was most firm with your stepfather in my letter," Uncle Brian said. "But I am afraid I cannot produce a fiancé for you so easily." 

"I believe I have that arranged, sir," Lindsey replied with a smile. "A special license would make matters easier, though." 

"That I can certainly assist with," he replied with a smile. "Just say the word." 

"Thank you for everything you've done for me, Sir Brian," Lindsey replied sweetly. "I don't know what I'd have done without your help." 

"It is nothing, dear," he said with a smile. "Jamia is like a daughter to me." 

Lindsey smiled again. Jamia was certain she'd have kissed Uncle Brian's cheek if they'd been standing. Gerard, Mikey, and Ray came into the room then and Jamia served them tea. Ray still wore the traces of a frown but he was talking to the brothers easily enough. Jamia was relieved. Surely the two of them would need his support, if not his help. 

Jamia took the opportunity to tell them of the ball. "We've been invited to a ball at the Richardson estate," she said. 

"How nice," Mikey said, but he and Gerard shared a silent look. 

"We should all go," Lindsey said. "I very much want to dance." 

"Then we shall surely dance," Gerard told her with a smile. 

Uncle Brian smiled at them too, Jamia noticed. She suddenly wished Frank was there sharing tea and plans with them. She wanted his smiles and his fingers on her wrist when he spoke to her. She wished also that she could have spoken when Lindsey did, about Frank. But matters with Frank were more...fraught. Not that she thought they _wouldn't_ marry, really. But it wasn't something she wanted to say until she was sure. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Jamia seemed excited about the upcoming ball, as well she might be - she hadn't seen the neighbors in years - and Lindsey obligingly let herself be shuttled to the dressmaker, but she was counting the moments until she could meet with Gerard again. Jamia was pouring their afternoon tea when they heard the sound of a knock on the front door. 

Mikey jumped up out of his chair, and Jamia raised a brow. "Expecting someone?" She was probably hoping for Frank; for her sake, Lindsey hoped so as well, but she had her doubts.

"His fiancée," Gerard said softly and stood as well. The butler escorted a young woman into the room. Mikey stepped forward to take her hand and kiss her cheek. She was tall. Every bit as tall as Mikey, and extremely pretty. 

"Welcome," Jamia said, setting the teapot aside and rising to give the woman her hand. "On behalf of my uncle." 

"Miss Jamia Nestor," Mikey said, "Allow me to present Miss Alicia Simmons." 

"Miss Simmons," Jamia repeated. "A pleasure to meet you. I assume you know Gerard, so allow me to introduce Miss Lindsey Ballato, a friend of mine. Will you join us for tea?"

"I'd love to, Miss Nestor," Miss Simmons replied. She and Mikey sat on the sofa together. Lindsey noticed that Mikey did not release her hand. 

"How do you take your tea?" Jamia asked. 

"One sugar, please," Miss Simmons said. 

"It's very good to meet you," Lindsey said. "We've been curious about you since you were first mentioned."

Miss Simmons smoothed her skirts, perhaps a trifle nervously. She was nicely but simply dressed. "I admit to a certain amount of curiosity of my own, but I was not sure if visiting would be an imposition, or... proper. Mikey insisted." 

"Gerard and Mikey have told us their secret, Miss Simmons," Jamia said reassuringly. "And my cousin Ray as well. We are simply glad to meet you. And I would feel it highly improper to let you rent rooms in town a moment longer. You will come to stay?" 

"Do say you will," Lindsey added. 

"I… yes, if you insist, and do call me Alicia," she said with a smile. 

"Yes, Christian names all around! And I do insist. Good, I'm glad that's settled," Jamia replied. "I'll have Mrs. Fairfax prepare a room next to Lindsey's and mine." 

They drank their tea and chatted with Alicia. Lindsey liked her immediately. She was smart and amusing and clearly very devoted to Mikey. When supper time advanced and Ray and Sir Brian joined their company, Sir Brian greeted the newest arrival most politely and asked the question that Lindsey and Jamia hadn't, namely, when the wedding was to be. 

"We haven't set a date yet," Mikey told him.

"As soon as I am able to buy them a home to live in," Gerard added. "Which I hope will be soon, if my investments are sound, and I believe they are. It will allow the fulfilment of several of my fondest wishes," he said with a sideways glance at Lindsey, whose stomach clenched in sudden anticipation.

*

That evening as they departed the sitting room for bed, Gerard slipped Lindsey a note asking her to meet him in the gallery the next morning before breakfast. 

Lindsey was there bright and early - and not really expecting Gerard, because he was not an early riser. As predicted, he wasn't in the gallery when she arrived, but he was only a few moments behind her. He looked decidedly rumpled and she smiled at him and stepped forward to smooth his wild hair down a touch. 

"Realized your mistake at asking me here so early, didn't you?" 

"I'm awake. So awake. It is merely that I had a hard time falling asleep last night," he said - babbled, almost. 

"Nervous? Excited?" she asked gently and tugged him over to a bench and they sat. 

"About many things," he replied. 

"I suppose I can guess a few," she said, curling her fingers around his. 

"And both at once about some things," Gerard replied softly and reached for her other hand. He took a deep breath. "Lindsey, I can't offer you anything like the life you deserve, but it would honor me if you agreed to be my wife." 

"Of course I will," she murmured. "And I will give you all the happiness that is in my power to give." 

"That's a pretty turn of phrase, so I shall repeat it back to you," he whispered, reaching out to cup her cheek softly. She leaned in to kiss him, but he stopped her with a quiet, "Wait." He reached into his watch pocket. "I could never bring myself to sell this, and it is not worth much, 'tis true, but..." He extracted a ring and held it out to her. "It was my grandmother's wedding ring. They were quite poor as well, when they married. But they loved each other." 

She swallowed hard. "That is all I would ever ask for." He slid the ring onto her finger and she stared down at it. It was a simple band with a dark blue stone and she loved it immediately. When she looked up at Gerard, he was looking at her with his lip caught between his teeth, expression a mix of emotions, all good. "Now do I get a kiss?" she whispered. 

"Yes," he replied fervently and leaned in to press his lips to hers. He just felt...right for her. Necessary. In different ways from Jamia, which really made her terribly lucky. And he was such a good kisser, she thought, remembering with a little thrill how Jamia had said she could tell where Frank had learned to kiss. 

Even as they kissed, she wanted more. Wanted his mouth, and indeed his fingers, other places. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. Gerard wrapped one arm around her waist and turned her so her legs were draped over his lap with the other. 

She laughed against his lips when he reached out and pulled the sash on the drapes. "Plans, Mister Way?" 

"You don't want to be ravished before breakfast?" he asked airily. 

"Did I say that?" she asked with a smile. 

"No," Gerard murmured and slid a hand up her skirt under her petticoats. "And very I'm glad of it." 

She held back a gasp as his fingers stroked her, and he smiled wickedly. "Don't be noisy, now, sweetheart," he whispered, and she breathed slowly and deeply. "You were prepared for this, weren't you? Wearing nothing under your skirts." 

"Then I suppose I am always prepared," she replied. 

"Are you? I shall bear that in mind," he replied and slid his fingers inside her. She turned her face into his shoulder and breathed. He was so expert at teasing her, she forgot everything for a while but his fingers - strong, just rough enough. 

When she shifted on his lap and he groaned a little, she bit her lip then demanded, "More." 

"That may require some movement, depending on how you would like me to provide more," he murmured breathlessly in her ear. 

"I want you inside me," she told him. She felt his smile against the side of her temple. 

"You do love that, don't you? Right. Let's move a bit." He moved her legs, quickly unbuttoned his trousers, and lifted her back onto his lap. She settled her knees on either side of his lap and tugged her skirts up and out of the way. 

"Just like this?" she breathed. 

He settled a hand on her waist. "Yes. Just like this." He wrapped a hand around himself and Lindsey lifted up and took him in. It was a good thing she leaned in to kiss him because they both groaned at that sensation. He was right. She _loved_ this. She'd known she would since the first time she'd lain in the dark exploring herself with her fingers. And she loved what it did to him, seeing this lovely, wicked man go helplessly where she led him. 

When he pulled back from her lips, he pressed his face to her chest, hot breath puffing between her breasts as he thrust his hips up. She laced her fingers through his hair and kissed his temple, his forehead, the top of his ear. Riding his lap, she could let herself go and grind down hard, rocking against him and rubbing until her entire body was tingling. 

He reached into her bodice and cupped her breast, lifting it to his lips. She had to hold her breath to keep from moaning. He swirled his tongue around her nipple and the breath she was holding came out in a whoosh. Then his fingers moved to rub over her and she couldn't stop the small whimper that escaped her. 

"Yes, sweetheart," he murmured against her chest. He licked at her neck and she held back a squeak. He wouldn't mark her...but maybe she could mark him. She tugged down his cravat and collar and pressed her lips to his neck. She slid her tongue over his skin and then sucked. 

Gerard's hips stuttered and he muffled another moan against her shoulder. His hands slipped down to her waist and held on tight as he rocked up into her. Lindsey twisted her hands into his hair and rolled her hips hard until her breath caught, her thighs tensed, and she shook against him with the force of her release. 

He bit his lips hard and his hands clenched on her sides, waiting until she was done, until he could kiss her as her shudders subsided, before helping her lift up and off of him. She joined her hand to his, tight around his shaft and stroking fast. His release came moments later, all over her petticoats. She didn't care at all, just leaned in to kiss him, not even letting him catch his breath. 

When she pulled back, she leaned her forehead against his. "That was -" 

"Perfect," he whispered. "I think we shall make each other very happy indeed, Miss Ballato. And I don't just mean like this." She didn't have the proper words for it, but she leaned in to kiss him again. They stayed behind the curtain kissing until there was nothing for it but to put themselves back together and go to breakfast. 

Gerard held her hand, and she prepared herself for teasing even though she knew their appearances were perfectly correct. She was strangely nervous about Jamia's reaction to the engagement, as well. She needn't have worried. Jamia teased, but not with any meanness or jealousy. And she beamed at Gerard in a way that made Lindsey sigh with relief. The way she took Lindsey's hand beneath the table made her feel even better. 

Lindsey smiled at Gerard, and Jamia, and Mikey, and Ray, and even Sir Brian with equal joy. The smile faltered a bit when Frank crossed her mind. She very much liked Frank. And she did want him to forgive Gerard, wanted them to mend things between them. But she wasn't sure what to do with him and she wasn't sure how he felt about her, about her presence in the lives of both Gerard and Jamia. 

_Perhaps I can win him over,_ she thought. _I will have to try._

She was still musing when Sir Brian coughed and drew a letter from his coat pocket. "Jamia. Your parents wrote," he said. 

"Oh," Jamia replied and her hand compulsively squeezed Lindsey's before letting go and reaching for the letter. 

"What do they say?" Lindsey asked after Jamia had a chance to scan it. 

"They say they are disappointed I left school, but are glad I chose to come here," she said and then sighed. "And that they'll return to the country at Christmas." 

"It could be very nice to have them here for Christmas," Lindsey murmured. 

"Yes, I suppose so. Until they summon me to London." 

Lindsey frowned, but stayed quiet until the conversation around them shifted, then leaned in to whisper in Jamia's ear. "Surely if you are engaged to a respectable young man by then, they wouldn't call you to London?" 

Jamia snorted. "They find the country dull. Perhaps a wedding would draw them here. My absence would be unacceptable otherwise." 

"Then perhaps we should plan a Christmas wedding for you," Lindsey replied. 

"I'm not engaged yet, not really," Jamia whispered. 

"You're as good as," Lindsey said. "Or perhaps Gerard and I will be in London then. We haven't made any plans, but that _is_ where his house is. Whatever the solution, we shan't be apart at Christmas. I won't allow it." 

Lindsey was sure Jamia continued to brood about the letter most of the day, but when the butler announced Frank just before teatime, her face lit up. So, Lindsey noticed, did Gerard's, though he quickly altered his expression to something less expectant. When Frank walked into the room, a small puppy tucked under his arm, everyone's face lit up. 

"Frank," Jamia scolded. "One does not celebrate one's birthday week by bringing other people presents." 

"Perhaps that is how I spend my birthday week," Frank replied with a grin. "Besides, it is not truly a present if it's something I already promised you." 

Jamia waved a hand and gathered the puppy into her arms. "What shall we call you, hmm?" 

"She's a she, if that helps," Frank told her, sinking easily to his knees beside the settee despite the availability of other chairs in the room. Jamia smiled down at him and Lindsey couldn't help but smile herself at that look on her face. Looking at Gerard, though... his face was sad. Very, very sad. Lindsey knew Frank hadn't so much as glanced his direction. He hadn't looked at Lindsey, for that matter. Sir Brian engaged Frank in a lively conversation, though, and the expression on his face seemed to indicate he would want very much to have a Christmas wedding for his niece. 

Jamia motioned for Gerard to come closer. "You all have to help me choose a name." 

Gerard smiled as he moved to a closer chair. "But all the best names for pretty girls are already taken by others in this room." 

Well, that got Frank's attention. Oh dear. Lindsey wouldn't presume to know Frank better than Jamia, but she wondered if perhaps telling him the whole truth had done more harm than good. His eyes were full of hurt and anger, but he carefully schooled his face when Jamia looked back up at him. 

"What did you call her, Frankie? Perhaps we shouldn't rename her at all." Frank colored and muttered something. "Frankie?" Jamia asked. 

"Sweet Pea," he repeated. The puppy lifted her head and looked at Frank. 

Jamia laughed delightedly. "I think that is her name, then." 

"And a very fine name it is," Gerard said. He was trying so hard, and looking at Frank like he'd hung the moon, and Lindsey couldn't bear it if Frank hurt him again. 

"Frank," she said brightly, "when is your actual birthday?" 

"The thirty-first," Frank replied. 

"That's the day of the masquerade at the Richardson estate. You are coming, aren't you?" she asked. 

"I hadn't especially planned on it," Frank said in a flat voice. 

"Frankie, I'd like to dance with you," Jamia said. "Plus, costumes! Masks! It's quite thrilling." 

"I... the Richardson estate, you say?" Lindsey nodded. "Perhaps I shall," Frank replied. Frank's eyes cut briefly to Gerard who made the mistake of shifting uncomfortably under his gaze. "For you, Jamia," he said deliberately. 

Jamia gave him a smile, "Good," she said. Lindsey could tell she was saying much to him with that look, given the things also in Frank's face. 

"I brought you a basket, and a lead, and a few toys I made," Frank told Jamia. "And I shall leave Sweet Pea in your care. But you must call upon me with any needs," he said. 

"Oh, I shall," she said with a little twinkle. "But are you leaving so soon, Frank?" 

"I really must. I, ah, have correspondence I need to catch up on," he said. 

"If you must," Jamia replied quietly. "I'll walk you to the door." 

When they were out of the room, Gerard sighed heavily. Lindsey shot him a quelling look - so did Mikey - but Sir Brian beat them all to it. 

"It is sad to see you two boys at odds, Gerard. That kind of friend only comes along once in a lifetime." 

Ray coughed uncomfortably, but Gerard answered contritely, "I beg your pardon for airing our disagreements in company, Sir Brian. It has been so kind of you to have us stay and I would never want to be so rude." 

Sir Brian waved a hand. "And you haven't been, but for those who know you, it is easy to see the rift. I do hope you can mend things." 

"As do I," Gerard replied fervently. 

Lindsey resolved to go speak with Frank the next day. Perhaps she shouldn't meddle, but she couldn't bear to see Gerard so hopeful and so downtrodden in such rapid succession. And part of her reasoning was purely selfish, for surely it would be much easier for her to see Jamia once they were all married if Frank and Gerard were no longer at odds. 

*

When she rode up to the Iero stables the next morning and inquired after Mr. Iero, she was taken to Frank's estate office, a large room filled with ledgers. Apparently he was much more involved in his estate operation than she had realized. 

"Lindsey," Frank said with a smile. "How can I be of service?" 

"I'm here to speak with you about Gerard. And Jamia by extension, I suppose," she replied bluntly. 

His smile faded. "Do you women think of nothing else? I would think you have sufficient amusements. Perhaps I am wrong." 

Lindsey glared. "There is no need to be rude. And we want to talk about it because it's important to the happiness of people we love dearly." 

"I am sick to death of talking," Frank said wearily. "Talking will not take away the misery of the last two years." 

"Of course it won't. I don't think any of us would ask you to forget it," she replied. 

"Then what would you have me do?" Frank asked helplessly. 

"Try to forgive him? Work at being friends again?" Lindsey suggested. "At the very least, don't flee the room if he's there and make everyone uncomfortable." 

He looked at her for a moment, tapping a pen against his desk. "You will make a good wife for him," he finally said. 

Lindsey was rather shocked at the change of subject. "What on earth does that mean?" she demanded. 

"You are very straightforward. And protective. That will be good for him." 

"I like to think so," she finally replied. "And let the record show that I am very glad Jamia will have you." 

He finally smiled, really smiled, and it changed his whole face. "I told her, but perhaps it bears repeating to you as well," Frank murmurs. "I would say the same of you and her and I would never wish you apart." Damn him. She had been ready to be angry. 

"Please," she whispered. "Don't let this rift come between us all." 

He swallowed. "It's difficult. To let go of my anger. I... as long as I was angry, I could pretend I didn't still love him. I still cannot condone this... burglary. I would have given him everything I had," he spit out. 

"No one is asking you to. Nor are they asking for your approval or your help," Lindsey said gently. "And put yourself in his place. Young and frightened and grieving his father. You don't have to approve, but he did what he felt best given his circumstances." He turned his face away and closed his eyes. "He loves you so much," Lindsey murmured. "Perhaps different decisions could have been made, but they weren't and there's no changing it now. And I am selfish enough to be glad for the opportunity to share him," she added bluntly. 

He laughed. "If it... I like you a great deal, Lindsey Ballato. If Gerard and I mend things, it would be a privilege to do so." 

Lindsey had a lot more sympathy for Jamia now - Frank was blunt but kind, charming even, but even more stubborn than she'd imagined. Perhaps words wouldn't sway him at all. Perhaps Gerard needed to confront him again, and try a different tactic. Or perhaps he needed to be left to himself to sort his thoughts from now on. She wasn't certain. "I hope we can, Frank. Sincerely. I'll leave you now," she told him. 

"Give my love to Jamia," he said, crossing the room to open the door for her. 

"I will," Lindsey promised. She wanted to ask if he had any messages for Gerard, but stayed quiet. 

Gerard had gone out when Lindsey returned to the manor, but Jamia was waiting for her in her room. Lindsey took Jamia's face between her hands and kissed her, hard. 

"What was that for?" Jamia asked when Lindsey pulled away. 

"Because I couldn't do it to your infuriating fiancé. Not that he needs it from me. Gerard needs to kiss him senseless, and soon." 

Jamia laughed. "I rather agree. Is that why you disappeared? To go speak with him?" 

"Yes, dear heart. I hope you do not mind, but it was weighing on me since yesterday." Thinking of yesterday made her remember to go stroke the puppy curled at the foot of the bed. "Have you been waiting long? I know we have a fitting this afternoon." 

"Not long. It took me some time to convince Alicia to join us, but I eventually succeeded," Jamia said and pressed her face to Sweet Pea's wiry fur. 

"She is quite nice," Lindsey said. 

"Indeed," Jamia replied. "But proud. She is concerned about the expense of 'dressing like she belongs here.'" 

Lindsey laughed. "Sounds familiar." 

Jamia pushed Lindsey's hair off her face and smiled. "Yes. She is a skilled seamstress and I told her she could have and alter any of our older gowns as she likes. I hope you don't mind me speaking for you." 

"I have not yet complained in three years, have I?" Lindsey teased. 

Jamia grumbled and tangled her fingers in Lindsey's hair. "You should change now." 

"You are making it difficult for me to want to," Lindsey murmured. 

"Tonight after supper," Jamia said, "you and I shall retire and find our pleasure together. I'll do whatever you would like." 

"Mm, very well," Lindsey replied, unbuttoning her riding jacket and the fine linen blouse underneath. "I shall think very hard of a worthy pursuit." 

"Do," Jamia said and leaned close to lick between Lindsey's breasts before getting up and going to the wardrobe to get their cloaks. 

Lindsey sighed and unbuttoned her skirt as well, then reached for the day dress laid out on the bed. Her nipples were tingling now, and the bodice of this dress was quite snug. "You are wicked," Lindsey told Jamia. Jamia merely smirked at her. "I shall exact some form of revenge," Lindsey said. 

"I shall look forward to it," Jamia replied. 

Lindsey finished dressing and scooped up Sweet Pea for Jamia. "Let's go." 

Alicia was waiting for them in the foyer and they went out together to get in the carriage. Lindsey reached out to squeeze Alicia's hand. "You grow accustomed to it all, I promise." 

"Was I that obvious?" Alicia asked. 

"You weren't obvious at all," Jamia replied. 

"Which is what gave you away," Lindsey added. "To me, anyway. My mother was a young widow and we had very little money when I was young, until my stepfather took a fancy to her family name. So I really do understand." 

Alicia smiled at her. "You are kind. Both of you. I didn't intend to... even if we live frugally the rest of our lives, we'll still be part of society in ways I never thought I'd be. It's very strange." 

"The nice thing about society, in my opinion, is that once you're married you can decide how much or how little you want of it," Jamia replied. 

"I shall keep reminding myself of that," Alicia murmured. "I don't think Mikey has much use for 'society' anyway." 

"Will you live in London, do you think?" Jamia asked. Lindsey could hear the little thread of nervousness in her voice. Frank would surely want to stay at the estate most of the year. Gerard - and Lindsey - would most likely return to his grandmother's house unless there was another option. 

"I think that depends largely upon what Gerard decides. And you, of course," Alicia said. "I have no specific ties to London." 

"You will not continue your employment with Gerard's friend?" Lindsey asked delicately, and Alicia laughed. 

"Your expression. I cannot tell if you are fascinated or extremely politely disapproving." 

Lindsey laughed. "I think it's more that I know I should be disapproving, but I can't quite bring myself to be. I find it all fascinating." 

"James has been doing this for years," Alicia confided. "He keeps tabs on absolutely everyone through the gambling hell. It's justice of a sort for people who wouldn't otherwise be subject to any." 

"I think it's... not necessarily a good thing, but I can see that it's often necessary," Jamia said. 

"Your fiancé would disagree," Alicia said. 

"He's not my fiancé yet," Jamia said with a smile. "And I think were Gerard not involved, he'd support it. He cannot separate the action from the person who hurt him." 

"I think he may be close to moving beyond it," Lindsey said. "We had a good conversation this morning." 

"Mikey was hoping he didn't have to go beg Frank to reconsider as well," Alicia told them. 

"Hopefully that won't be necessary. Let's give him a few days to stew on what the rest of us have said," Jamia said. 

"Gerard and Mikey do not want you two to worry about anything that might happen Friday night," Alicia told them. "They will have matters under control as they always do." Lindsey snorted indelicately. "I know," Alicia said. "It seems like an impossible thing to not worry about, but they are very good at what they do." 

Jamia laughed and wrapped an arm around Lindsey's waist to squeeze her for a moment. Lindsey leaned her cheek against the top of Jamia's head. She was trying not to worry overmuch, but it was easier said than done. 

They fell to discussing costumes for the masquerade, and when the carriage paused for a long time outside one of the student clubs instead of taking them down to the dressmaker's, Jamia frowned and opened the side door to call out to the driver. There was a commotion, she heard someone shout "Wait, please!" and then a boy swung up into their carriage and pulled the door shut. 

"Did he see me?" he said. 

"Who?" Jamia asked, startled. 

"Mr. Toro!" the boy answered. Just then, the carriage started moving. 

Lindsey peeked out the window. "No one is looking this way," she said, then took a closer look. The boy was wearing a fencing mask, but was strangely... "Do we..." The boy pushed the mask up and Lindsey started laughing. 

"Christa!" Jamia exclaimed. "What in heaven's name?" 

"Oh, it's a terribly long story," said Christa, looking distressed. 

"We would like to hear it, if you would like to tell it. We are for the dressmaker, but perhaps we can stop at your home so you might change," Jamia suggested. 

Christa brandished a knapsack. "Change of clothes. Most likely sadly wrinkled." She looked at Alicia and added, "I am so very sorry, this is a terrible imposition. I'm Christa Rawlins." 

"Alicia Simmons," Alicia said. "And it's no bother. I've seen and done similar before." 

Christa shuffled out of her outer layers of clothing and into the simple brown dress with an ease that spoke of practice. "It started as a quite simple thing," she said. "I just wanted to learn how to fence." 

"Ah," Lindsey said with a smile. "That makes sense." 

"The college boys don't tip well, so the masters are willing to look the other way to a certain degree. Once I had learned enough to take on practice partners, that's when the trouble began." 

"Trouble?" Jamia asked. 

"I found a sparring partner I liked, and instead of being sensible and moving on to someone new after a session or two, I continued meeting with the same man." 

"Mr. Toro?" Alicia guessed. 

"Ray is so sweet, even if he had found you out he wouldn't be cross," Jamia protested. 

"No, he didn't find me out," Christa said. "He... we. That is. He is rather in love with me, I think. And he doesn't know I'm... well. I don't know what to do." She sounded close to despair. Lindsey embraced her. 

Jamia was chewing her lip. "Ray loves you, yet he thinks you are a youth? Hm, that is unexpected." 

"It's terrible," Christa said. "If he learns the truth he shall hate me for my deception, and also - would that I were a youth, if that would please him, but that is certainly beyond my power." 

"I cannot say for certain, but I don't think your sex is a point against you," Jamia murmured. 

Lindsey studied her friend. "Are you looking for an opportunity to unmask yourself, Christa? Or would you rather continue your fencing with a new partner?" 

"I find myself rather in love with him as well," Christa murmured. "I can't keep sparring with him for much longer without revealing myself. It would break me." 

"Then you must present yourself to him," Jamia told her. "We shall provide an introduction." 

"An unmasking would be better," Alicia opined. "Let him discover the truth himself, in a setting of your choosing." 

"Well, there is a masquerade tomorrow night," Lindsey suggested.

"Yes, that was my thought," Alicia said with a smile. "It is so easy to find yourself alone with a suitor at a masquerade." She raised an eyebrow at Lindsey and Lindsey realized she was hinting at something else as well. Frank and Gerard, of course. 

"Very true," Jamia said. "Christa, Ray is a dear friend. I can't imagine he would react so badly as to hate you. He is, after all, used to Lindsey and me."

Christa laughed. "Yes, there is that, I suppose. I… if you think it wise, I will try at the ball. I don't think I could bear it if he hated me." 

"Give him a few moments to be shocked, but once he is over that, I would wager that he will be very pleased indeed," Jamia said. 

Their friend's expression went distant for a moment, then she smiled even more broadly than before. "I shall require a costume. With a sword."

"That's the spirit," Alicia said. Lindsey grinned at them both. 

"Are you coming to the dressmaker with us?" Jamia asked.

"Yes," Christa nodded firmly. "I want to see your costumes. And we will just pretend I was with you all along. I don't have lessons until later. The children's mother took them to see their aunt." 

"We should have invited you in the first place," Lindsey replied. "We should go to the teashop after. Make a proper afternoon of it." 

"That sounds lovely," Christa replied. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Despite Gerard's most earnest pleading, neither Jamia nor Lindsey would breathe a word of their masquerade costumes, so he saw them for the first time when the household gathered in the foyer to wait for the carriage. Two, actually, as they could not all fit comfortably in one. Lindsey looked like a goddess, both literally and figuratively. Gerard's breath caught in his throat when he saw her. 

"Artemis," he guessed, because of the bow and arrows she was carrying. "Beautiful, beautiful Artemis." She smiled gorgeously and Gerard wished he could do more than kiss her hand. That was a bad idea for more reasons than propriety; she wasn't wearing a mask, but she'd done something entrancing with face paints. Gerard had to tear his gaze away. 

Jamia was just as lovely. She looked like one of the queens of old, her hair flowing down her shoulders and a gold circlet around her forehead. She had chosen a mask, a wisp of black lace. He and Mikey looked rather plain in comparison, in all black with simple dominoes. Alicia was a cat. Sir Brian came down the stairs resplendent in what appeared to be his academic robes, but rather embellished. "Merlin?" Gerard asked with a grin. 

"Just so. Ray insisted on providing my counterpart." 

Ray brandished an apple. "Sir Isaac Newton." 

Gerard tipped his head back and laughed. "Excellent." 

"Shall we depart?" Sir Brian asked. 

"Yes, let's, uncle," Jamia replied. She somehow managed things so he, Mikey, and Alicia ended up alone in a carriage. 

"Halfway through, we'll sneak over to Basilton's estate," Gerard murmured. 

Alicia nodded. "I wish I could help, but I'm known to the household servants already." 

"It will be fine," Gerard assured her, though the ride to the Richardson estate seemed interminable. 

"Yes, I know," she replied. "I told Lindsey and Jamia that you are very good at what you do and I meant it. I just hate feeling so useless." 

"Keep them from worrying and you will be," Gerard said. He abruptly remembered that Frank had promised to come tonight - not that he had precisely forgotten - and had an entirely new wave of nervousness. "I think the only way this night will turn horrible is personally," he murmured. 

When they arrived, he had the pleasure of escorting Lindsey into the ballroom. They were not, of course, announced, this being a masquerade, but he enjoyed the admiring glances. Lindsey beckoned over someone Gerard didn't think he recognized under the costume. She was clearly a friend, though. "Gerard," she said. "This is Christa, an old schoolfriend. Christa, my fiancé." She smirked at him. Gerard could not contain his grin at being introduced as her fiancé. 

"Hello," Gerard said. "Very pleased to meet you." 

"Likewise," she said sweetly. He probably could have guessed she was a friend of Lindsey and Jamia's just from her outfit - she was dressed as a buccaneer. It was a secret disappointment of his that he hadn't been around to witness Lindsey and Jamia's arrival at Sir Brian's. He looked around the room. There were many different dresses and costumes, but he had to say those of his group were the best. He wondered what Frank would dress as. 

Lindsey was whispering to Christa, who soon excused herself, color high. "That looked like scheming to me," Gerard said. 

Lindsey smirked at him. "Don't you know, Gerard? We women are always scheming." 

"Whatever you say, sweetheart," he said, and she laughed. 

"And I'm not done. Be in the conservatory in fifteen minutes, _sweetheart._ " She winked and left him standing by himself. There was no one nearby that he wanted to dance with, so slowly wandered through the crowds, stopping periodically to observe and then moving on until he reached the conservatory. 

"I'm so sorry I did not confess the truth," a vaguely familiar female voice said from an alcove just outside the doors. 

"I confess, I am shocked," said an even more familiar male voice. Ray, Gerard realized, and Christa-the-buccaneer. Gerard quickly ducked into the conservatory so as to not disturb them, only to run into another person. 

"This is perfectly awkward," the most familiar voice of all whispered sardonically. It was a bit scratchy, like he always sounded when he was beginning or finishing a chest complaint, but Gerard would know it anywhere. 

Frank wasn't wrong, but Gerard didn't want to address it yet. He wanted to hear what was going on outside. Gerard just nodded and leaned toward the door. Frank moved with him, pressed close in order to hear clearly. Gerard could hardly concentrate on the words Christa was saying. 

"I only wanted to learn to fence," Christa said quietly. "I should have refused you as soon as I realized - as soon as you said - it was dishonorable," she finished. 

"Were you... playing at the things you said? Taking me for a fool?" Ray asked. He sounded strange. Not angry, but wary and a little sad. 

"What's going on?" Gerard whispered to Frank. 

"Ray fell in love with his fencing partner," Frank sighed. "And had the expected crisis of self-doubt. Except it turns out, apparently..." 

"He was a she?" Gerard finished. 

"Yes, apparently. Now shush." God, Gerard could feel the heat radiating from him and smell his soap and the faint scent of lemon from the sweets he favored when his throat was sore. 

" _No,_ " Christa said. "I meant every word. "Which makes my deception all the worse. I love you," she said shakily. "I don't deserve to have that love returned, but I can't help hoping..." 

"I won't deny that I'm still... I got used to thinking of you one way and it's strange and... but that's still your voice, still you under there," Ray murmured. 

Gerard suddenly felt choked up. He swallowed and stepped back from the doorway, away from Frank's warmth. 

"I do believe they're going to reconcile," Frank said in a strange, tight voice. 

"Outside the door of the room we're in?" Gerard replied, bitterly amused. He could smell a scheme in this, and he knew precisely whose it was. 

"We've been conspired against," Frank said. Gerard couldn't tell from his tone how he felt about it. 

"We have," Gerard replied as evenly as he could manage. 

Frank shrugged. "It's a pretty big room." He turned and walked across to look out one of the large windows onto the dark lawn. Gerard automatically followed him, scanning his form to try to figure out his costume. 

"All right, I give up," Gerard finally said. "What are you dressed as?" 

Frank scrunched his nose. "I couldn't think of anything good so last minute. So I'm a gentleman of Verona." 

"Star-crossed lover?" Gerard said before he could think better of it. 

"No," Frank replied harshly. "Because none of us are dead yet and none of us will be." 

"Of course not," Gerard murmured soothingly. He stepped closer, couldn't help himself. "Frank, I've said my piece, but if you... I'll beg, if you want." 

Frank scrubbed his hands over his face. "I never said I wanted you to beg." 

"Then what do you want? Because I'll do it." 

Gerard hadn't realized how close he'd gotten to Frank. "I want... damn you, Gerard," Frank said tiredly, looking up to meet his eyes. 

"Perhaps we could... that is... Maybe we could start again?" Gerard asked hopefully. 

"How? How would we start again?" 

"Like this," Gerard replied, reaching out and cupping Frank's cheek in his hand, waiting for a reaction. When one didn't immediately come, he leaned in and kissed Frank softly. He didn't linger long, though he desperately wanted to, and when he pulled back he pressed his forehead against Frank's. "By kissing and talking and trying to put the past behind us." 

"Gerard," Frank breathed, and then Mikey's voice from the doorway cut off anything else Frank might have said. 

"Gee, I'm sorry, but he's here. He actually came. We should go now." 

Gerard squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, and felt Frank step back. Step away. "Of course," he whispered. "This is what you'll leave me for. Again." 

"This is the last time," Gerard murmured. "The very last. I promise you that." 

"You promise? If you really want to start again, you get the man I've become. And that's someone to whom your promises mean nothing." His voice was harsh again. 

Gerard swallowed hard. "Then let me prove myself. Let me make them mean something again. Please, Frank." 

"Gee, we need to go," Mikey said gently. 

There was a long pause and then Frank said bitterly, "Go. Just go." 

Gerard turned and followed Mikey. He'd never hated himself more than he did at that precise moment. 

They left the house quietly through a secondary entrance and pulled their dominoes off when they were far enough down the road that they couldn't even see the lights of the Richardson estate in the distance. Mikey took Gerard's hand and squeezed it once they were walking again. Gerard squeezed back and then felt in his breast pocket for his lock picking tools. 

They knew, from Alicia's information, the general layout of the ground floor of the house. Gerard was banking on Basilton being the arrogant creature of habit he might be assumed to be, and going straight for the man's private office. The sample case for the diamond mine had to be stored somewhere in that room. Alicia had also reported that the number of staff was quite low, and Gerard was also banking on them to be occupied elsewhere in the house while their master was away. Mikey would serve as a lookout unless it proved necessary to split up. Gerard hoped it would not.

They got into the house without a problem. As Gerard suspected, the sounds of the house all seemed concentrated in the service areas and Gerard suspected there were few servants wandering the halls. They snuck toward the office. Gerard made quick work of the lock and they were inside. Mikey pulled out a stub of a candle and a box of matches. When Gerard got his first look at the desk, he was sorry they hadn't been able to bring a dark lantern instead, but he sighed and got to work on the first locked drawer while Mikey held position by the door.

Twice Gerard was forced to stop working and snuff the candle when Mikey signaled, but on both occasions whichever servant was hurrying down the hall didn't notice the cracked office door, or even hesitate in the speed of his steps. Gerard sighed after the second interruption. His fingers were starting to cramp, and several times they both froze as ominous-sounding gusts of wind buffeted the side of the house.

Finally, he got a drawer open and found the wooden case he'd been looking for. It, of course, had its own locks and Gerard wasn't willing to leave the room without confirming the contents, so he started on those, sitting on the floor. He held his breath when the last lock was open and he looked inside the case. The case was lined with velvet and contained three diamonds. 

"Perfect," he whispered and snapped it shut.

"Took you long enough," Mikey whispered, but Gerard knew he wasn't criticizing. Just nervous. Gerard was nervous too. About ten minutes ago, the gusts of wind had turned to torrential rain. There was no way they could return to the ball in that kind of deluge. Not without drawing a large amount of unwanted attention.

"Hope you're up for a walk," he replied. They would have to do one of two things - either return to the Richardson estate and hope no one noticed them sneaking into one of the carriages, or head for the May estate on foot.

First, they had to get out of the house. They exited the office and shut the door behind them and made their way back out. It was even more miserable outside than Gerard thought it would be. They were soaked through in moments. Once they were clear of the house and halfway down the drive, Gerard shouted over the wind, "Let's risk going back to find one of the carriages. We'll catch our death if we walk all the way home in this."

"As you say," Mikey replied, but he looked miserable already. Gerard was miserable too; the case wouldn't fit in his pocket, so he had to carry it in a small sack he'd brought for that purpose. But the wind was constantly banging it against his ribs, when it wasn't trying to rip it out of his grasp. He was going to be all over bruises by the time they got to some sort of shelter.

Mikey nearly lost his footing several times on the mud-slick road, and Gerard nearly joined him twice as he sought to steady him. The sight and sound of a carriage rushing toward them on the dark, wet road nearly made them fall for a third time. The carriage was upon them before Gerard recognized the face or the voice of the figure atop the driver's box. 

"Get in, you idiots," Frank shouted, pointing with the buggy whip, and they scrambled to obey.

 

*~*~*~*

 

Frank stayed in the conservatory for a long while after Gerard left. He stared out the windows into the night and thought long and hard about everything. He had come to the conservatory because of a whispered invitation from Jamia, and Gerard's presence had not been what he expected. But he couldn't bring himself to be angry with her. He just thought, over and over, about forgiveness. Starting over. 

Mikey's interruption, Frank thought, should have been a sign. But all Frank could remark upon was his clear reluctance to do so. This wasn't just about the two of them, Frank thought, and it never was. He was letting his pain hurt everyone. But it was hard to think clearly at all when he remembered Gerard's kiss. Frank was sure that hadn't been the intent, just an unfortunate side effect. But the truth nonetheless. 

He couldn't join the company like this, blood roiling with so many emotions. He stood and breathed and watched the night. The gusts of wind grew harder and steadier, and several times branches hit the glass of the conservatory with a crack that made him flinch, though nothing broke. The weather had turned cruel, and despite himself Frank was becoming miserably worried. 

He left the conservatory - Ray and his mysterious lady friend were long gone, hopefully enjoying each other's company - and went to find Jamia. The ballroom was miserably hot, and crowded, but he finally spotted her on the other side of the room laughing with Lindsey. It was so noisy in the main ballroom that he couldn't hear the terrible wind. He made straight for them and took her arm. "We must talk. Somewhere quiet." 

"Just me?" Jamia grinned. He could see from the look in her eyes that she expected something different, and oh, he wished he could provide it. Gerard had stirred him in more ways than one. But - no.

"Both of you," he said seriously, looking from Jamia to Lindsey. "And Alicia if you can find her." 

Jamia frowned and she pointed out Alicia not far down the ballroom. "Just there."

"Stay here," he said. Frank walked toward Alicia and offered her his arm. "Miss Simmons, there's a matter we need to discuss," he murmured with a significant look. 

"Of course, Mr. Iero," she replied. "I do hope nothing is wrong." Her face told him she knew something must be.

They walked toward the others and at Jamia's head tilt, made for the nearest set of doors and slipped into a drawing room off the grand hall. Frank saw realization dawn on all three of their faces as they heard the driving wind and rain against the windows. 

"I'm assuming your plan didn't account for a terrible storm?" Frank asked Alicia. She shook her head wordlessly. "They'll surely either head back here or toward home." 

"The coachmen," Alicia said. "They mustn't be involved, it's not fair to them." 

Frank nodded tightly. "I can drive the carriage, but I sent my own home until later, so it will have to be one of Sir Brian's."

"Let's just tell them Jamia is feeling faint and you insist on driving us yourself," Lindsey suggested. "The servants all know you're as good as engaged. They'll believe it." 

Jamia smiled briefly and brilliantly at Frank, and his heart thudded in a manner that was becoming familiar. Yes, they would believe it. Frank reached out and squeezed her hand before following her toward the front entrance. He held in a cough and tried not to grimace. He didn't have time for coughing. 

The butler greeted them and sent a footman for their cloaks. When they were outside, Lindsey and Alicia wrapped their arms around Jamia's waist. "Time to pretend you're feeling ill, dear heart," Lindsey murmured. 

Frank strode forward purposefully and asked for the May coach. Every second that they waited ticked by like a flow of molasses, but finally a coach rattled up, the coachman who Frank knew was senior on the driver's box. When he climbed down, Frank took him aside and explained firmly, in no uncertain terms, that he needed the coach immediately and he would be driving it _personally._ He was counting on a combination of deference and, perhaps, self-interest from the older man, and as Lindsey had suggested, it worked. 

Frank tried to suppress a sigh of relief. That would only bring on coughing as well. The coachman handed the girls in and Frank hopped up and took the reins in hand. As they left the circular drive in front of the Richardson estate, the rain started pouring down so hard Frank could barely see the road in front of him. His hat brim sluiced water away from his face, but deposited it on his shoulders, and his greatcoat was soon soaked through. He was shivering hard by the time he spotted the two figures slowly making their way down the road toward him. 

The horses were nervous of the wet, dark-clad creatures flapping along the side of the road, and Frank took a firm hold of the reins, slowing the carriage and shouting down at them, "Get in, you idiots!" They'd barely scrambled up before the horses jerked back into motion. They didn't want to be outside in this deluge either. 

Frank held on grimly to the reins and the whip and squinted into the night. His shivering was nearly constant now, his jaw, neck and shoulders locked tight. He breathed a nearly-constant prayer - that the horses wouldn't spook, that they knew their way home, that he would keep his seat. 

When the May estate finally came into view, Frank couldn't even sigh with relief, he was shivering so hard. He stopped directly in front of the doors and a footman came rushing out. Frank handed off the reins and when he hopped down to the ground, his knees buckled beneath him. 

"Careful, Frankie," Gerard murmured as his arm wrapped around Frank's waist. Frank hadn't even seen him alight from the carriage, but he nodded and forced himself back up straight. Even so Gerard did not let go of him until they were inside. 

Jamia was calling for the fires to be stoked and for blankets, hot water and tea, but it was all fuzzy to Frank's ears. He was so tired. So dizzy. 

"Frank?" he heard Gerard ask. 

"'Most everyone - I love - one - carriage," he said thickly, clutching at Gerard's arm as the floor tilted alarmingly. "Couldn't... crash, Gee," he mumbled. 

"Frankie!" Gerard sounded scared, and Frank couldn't understand why. They were inside. They were safe. "Call for the doctor!" 

"'S fine. Made it safe," Frank mumbled into Gerard's shoulder. Then he knew no more. 

 

*~*~*~*

 

Jamia heard Gerard yell for a doctor, turned, and froze on the spot. He was holding Frank - holding him up - and as she watched in horror, wrapped him up tight to keep him from tumbling to the floor. Mikey joined him a second later, but Frank's head only lolled on Gerard's shoulder. She felt a hand squeeze her elbow, and a second later Lindsey brushed by Jamia and said firmly, "Can you get him upstairs? Any room. Go, now." Then her cold palm cupped Jamia's cheek. "Breathe," she whispered, "and come with me." Jamia let Lindsey lead her upstairs and change her dress without resisting.

She followed Lindsey in a daze. It only barely registered that they were going into Gerard's room. Someone pulled up a chair behind her and she sat in it, grasping Frank's hand. Gerard sat on his other side. Frank looked terrible. He'd been stripped of his wet things and was clearly in one of Gerard's nightshirts. He was pale, his breathing was shallow, and Jamia wanted to cry. 

People moved around behind her, sometimes in front of her. She heard Alicia talking to a maid. There were hot bricks and blankets. Lindsey wrapped a shawl around Jamia's own shoulders with a soft kiss to her cheek, but she didn't look anywhere except Frank. 

"He was sick," Jamia heard Gerard say, to no one in particular. "I knew he was ill, when I spoke to him earlier in the evening. Why did he do that if he knew he was ill?"

"Don't be stupid," Jamia murmured. 

Gerard looked up at her and grimaced. "I'd rather have walked all the way home." 

"He hid it well. I had no idea," she whispered, suddenly feeling horribly guilty. "None at all."

"Both of you stop being stupid," Lindsey said, sitting at her feet. 

"The doctor's on his way," Mikey said from the doorway. "The man who went to fetch him just got back. And Alicia is outside with tea."

Jamia didn't think she could drink a drop of it, her stomach was so upset, but she nodded and Lindsey motioned Alicia inside. "Gerard, you should change or you'll catch your death as well," Lindsey said gently. "I'll fix your tea for you." 

They were in Gerard's room, Jamia realized dully when he went obediently to the wardrobe, then to the adjoining washroom. Gerard had carried Frank straight to his own room. She wished she'd sent them to her own. That she could crawl into her own bed and curl up beside Frank so she wouldn't have to stop touching him. She didn't think anyone in this room would care either. But - no. She had to stay strong.

Gerard reappeared a few moments later in dry clothes. He came directly to Jamia and squeezed her shoulder. She put her hand over his and sighed. "Everything was supposed to be all right after the ball," she whispered. 

"I had hoped," he whispered back, and she was just about to ask him what had happened in the conservatory when a footman announced the doctor.

He had clearly been at the masquerade. He was still wearing his ball finery, though he had no mask. "It's been some time since I was called to attend to Mister Iero," he said with a heavy sigh. "I had hoped it would be more time still." 

"He got caught in the rain, Doctor Cavallo, but we think he was ill before that. I don't -" Jamia trailed off. Doctor Cavallo was already moving closer to the bed to examine Frank, making infuriatingly noncommittal humming noises as he worked.

"His fever is very high," Doctor Cavallo finally said. "As high as I've ever seen in him. Poultices and as much tea and broth as you can get him to take. I will bleed him and return tomorrow."

"Bleed?" Gerard repeated unsteadily. Mikey huffed out a noise that was partially a laugh, and Gerard spent the next several minutes staring fixedly at the floor. Jamia didn't look away for a moment, because if she did, she wouldn't be able to make sure she could see Frank's chest moving.

Doctor Cavallo left and Jamia swallowed hard. Frank hadn't opened his eyes once since he fainted downstairs. The servants brought up the things the doctor advised and Jamia set about trying to get Frank to swallow some broth. A commotion in the hallway a while later preceded Uncle Brian and Ray, who listened gravely to Lindsey's explanation of the situation. After that, people went in and out of the room, but Jamia stopped paying attention. 

Gerard stayed, soaking a flannel to lay against Frank's forehead, folding and refolding the linen containing the smelly poultice and placing it delicately on Frank's chest. At one point, Jamia leaned her head forward and laid it on the bed. She needed to think, to breathe. The next thing she knew, she was blinking awake, very groggy. And then she lifted her head and remembered. 

"Frank," she gasped and studied him. He was still much the same.

"He hasn't woken, but he mumbled something a while ago when I tried to give him some water," Gerard said quietly from an armchair he'd dragged nearer to the bed. His voice was thready, and his hair was standing half on end.

She nodded and tried to blink the sleep from her eyes. "Time?" she asked. 

"Nearly two in the morning," Gerard replied. "I made Lindsey leave to sleep for a bit. She'll be back soon." He didn't say anything about Jamia leaving to sleep, which showed a measure of wisdom. Instead, he stood up. "Take this chair, it's more comfortable." 

She nodded and stood. They switched places. It was the more pleasant chair, but it was little comfort to her. She wanted Frank to wake up, for his fever to break. For none of this to be happening. 

"He will be fine," Gerard said. He sounded so certain. "We will make sure of it." 

She curled miserably into the chair. "How?" 

"I don't know, but we will. I'll pray if I must," he murmured. "We were... I thought he was finally listening to me. I won't lose him now. I won't let you lose him." 

"He was sick so often as a boy," she said, eyes closed. 

"I saw him nearly this ill once before," Gerard replied. "Jamia, I would give anything to be able to fix this. But I cannot." 

"I know," she whispered. "I know you would." She got up and took a circuit around the room. It was good to stretch her legs, but it didn't help. She twitched aside the drapes and looked outside. "The storm hasn't let up." 

"No. I wish we'd walked home." 

"Except then you and Mikey might be ill as well," she retorted. "And he still would have come after you. Tell me what happened in the conservatory," she said, swinging around and continuing her pacing. Gerard stopped her with a hand on her wrist. 

"I kissed him. I can't stop thinking of it," he confessed in a whisper. 

"Did he kiss back?" she asked. He nodded. 

"And then Mikey came to fetch me. He said... when we arrived, before he fainted, he said almost everyone he loved was in that carriage, so he couldn't crash." She breathed in a sob, and he tugged her down onto his lap, pressing his lips against her forehead. "He didn't, either. He'll get better, and we'll show him how much we appreciate that." 

She pressed her face into his neck, wrapped her arms around him and clung. "We will," she choked out. 

"Why are we in the less comfortable chair?" Gerard asked after a moment, and she giggled tiredly into his neck. 

"That's your own fault." 

He squeezed her around the waist. "Perhaps we should move to the other chair? I don't want to let go of you, but..." 

"If anyone comes in..." Jamia was too tired to care. Too tired to finish the sentence. She stood and let Gerard pull her to the deep-winged armchair, curled gratefully back into his lap and angled her head so she could watch Frank. They both drifted in and out of sleep, but Jamia woke for good as the sun was rising. She forced herself out of Gerard's arms. He grumbled, but she assured him she was just going to wash and change again. 

She found Lindsey sleeping in her bed when she let herself into her room, and the temptation to crawl under the covers was great, but she just cleaned up and put on a simple day dress. Gerard was administering a poultice when Jamia got back in the room. She sat on the edge of his bed on the other side and held Frank's hand between both of hers. 

A tap on the door signaled a visitor. It was Uncle Brian. "I expect Doctor Cavallo at half nine, dear. A goodly number of roads washed out last night, the staff tell me." 

She nodded. "Thank you, Uncle." 

"I sent word to Frank's parents," he continued. "Hopefully we will have good news by the time it arrives. I will send breakfast up on a tray," he continued. 

"And I will make sure they eat," a tired voice said from the hall. 

"I'd rather you made them sleep," Uncle Brian told Lindsey. "Thank you, dear." He patted her shoulder and continued on down the hall. 

Lindsey greeted them both with gentle kisses. "How is he?" she asked. "I think he's breathing a bit better," Gerard said. "The poultice appears to help, at least for a time." 

When the breakfast tray arrived, Jamia forced herself to eat a few small bites of everything and then she pushed her food away and drank only tea. After that, she sat on the bed again and encouraged some broth down Frank's throat. 

After a while he turned his head and muttered something and she froze, spoon in hand. "Frankie?" 

"Evr'thin' hurts," he croaked. "Feel so terrible." 

"We know, darling," she whispered and clasped his hand. Gerard moved off the chair and onto the bed and took Frank's other hand. 

"Do you want anything?" he asked. 

"Water. Hurts," he repeated, but when Jamia turned back to him with a cup of water his eyelashes were fluttering shut again and she was pretty sure he was drinking the water half-asleep. W

hen he stopped drinking, she looked up at Gerard with a small smile. It was amazing how much better she felt after just a short conversation. She knew by Gerard's face that he felt the same. 

"It is good to see you two smile," Lindsey said from her seat in the corner. Jamia smiled tiredly at her as well. "The doctor just arrived," Lindsey added.

Doctor Cavallo's visit was a bit of a blur. He did seen pleased that Frank woke, but everyone in the room knew he wasn't out of the woods yet. He did bleed Frank again, which met with much the same reaction from Gerard as before. Then he complimented them on their efficiency with the poultices. 

"The fever has not worsened, but I mislike the sound of his breathing. I will visit again tomorrow unless you call before then." Frank was so pale and Jamia hated seeing it. She gave him more broth and Gerard applied another poultice. 

Everything became a blur of Frank's face, Gerard's, and both of them caring for Frank as best they could. Sometimes Alicia would be there with them, or Mikey, or Lindsey, or Ray. Sometimes more than one. Sometimes Jamia dozed off. 

Frank woke up again during the late afternoon, while Gerard catnapped in the chair and Jamia sat by the bed, pretending to read. "J," he rasped, and she looked down and saw his eyes were open. 

"Frank! How do you feel?" She grasped his hand. 

"Like a coach ran me over," he replied. 

"Does everything still hurt?" she asked. He nodded miserably. Then he coughed, and the sound woke Gerard, who found his way to the other side of the bed. 

"Frankie," he whispered. When Gerard took his hand, Frank squeezed back. Jamia smiled and leaned down to kiss Frank's cheek. Frank coughed again, a deep, wet cough that made Jamia's chest ache in sympathy. 

"'M falling asleep on you again," Frank whispered. 

"Sleep all you need," Gerard told him. He was asleep almost before Gerard finished the sentence. Jamia tried to go back to her book, but her eyes kept swimming. Gerard was still holding Frank's hand. 

Later, when Lindsey brought a tea tray, and Jamia dropped her teaspoon twice trying to stir in sugar, Lindsey huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. "What must I do to get you to sleep?" 

"I don't want to _leave_ him," she protested. "What if he wakes again?" 

"Then I will be here sitting with him. Or Mikey. But the two of you must get some proper rest at some point," Lindsey insisted. 

"Not yet," Jamia murmured. "I can't. Not yet." 

Lindsey frowned. "Then when?" 

"I don't know," Jamia replied. "I don't know. I need to be here with him. Imagine if it was me or Gerard." 

"I have been," Lindsey replied softly. "You get one more day. And then I will carry you to bed, if I must. Both of you," she added. 

Jamia nodded and kissed her hand. Gerard got up and wrapped his arms around Lindsey. He held her close for a moment before leaning down to kiss Jamia on the forehead. 

"He'll get better," Gerard whispered. 

"Talking about me?" Frank croaked. Gerard laughed and moved over to kiss Frank's forehead too. "Yes. You've had us very worried, Frankie." 

"You ought to be relieved, if I wasn't ill, I'd - I'd -" He grimaced as another cough cut him off. 

"You must be feeling better if you're threatening me," Gerard said tenderly, laying his head down on the mattress next to Frank's hand. Jamia held her breath. After a moment, Frank's fingers curled into Gerard's hair. Gerard tried to contain the breath he took, but he couldn't quite manage it. "It wasn't worth this," Gerard murmured. "Mikey and I could have walked home in the rain." 

"Never," Frank coughed. "Idiot." 

"Stop talking. You're just making yourself cough," Jamia ordered. 

"I love you," he said. And coughed. 

"And we love you. Stop talking." She handed the cup of water to Gerard and he helped Frank sit up a bit and drink. He was half-asleep on Gerard's shoulder before he even finished the cup. 

"He's still feverish," Gerard said. "But I don't think it's nearly as bad? Perhaps that's just wishful thinking." 

Lindsey reached out and touched Frank's forehead. "No, it is better than it was. A bit. That cough sounds terrible, though. I'll call for more hot water." 

Frank's fever finally broke the next day. He was still completely miserable and he fell asleep just ask quickly, but he was no longer distressingly warm to the touch. Jamia finally allowed Lindsey to send her to bed. She had no sooner changed into a nightgown than the door opened again and Gerard was steered bodily through the opening. 

"Go to bed before I throw you both out the window," Lindsey's voice said, and the door clicked shut decisively. Jamia laughed tiredly. 

"Come here," she murmured. He sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes, then his trousers, and swung his legs up onto the bed. 

"Do you mind?" he asked. 

"Never," Jamia replied. She'd slept next to him or across the room from him or in his lap for days. Now she let him settle into her mattress and take her in his arms. She sighed happily and pressed her face into his chest. 

When she woke again, she had no idea of the time. She knew she felt much better, so she must have slept for a good while. And Gerard still had his arms around her. Her first instinct was to bolt out of bed and check on Frank, but Lindsey had promised solemnly to come fetch her at the slightest sign of Frank's condition worsening, so Jamia made herself take a deep breath and then, consideringly, wriggled even closer to Gerard and closed her eyes again. He sighed and tightened his arms around her. 

"Frank?" he muttered.

She chuckled, "if your asking how he is, Lindsey promised she'd inform me if he worsened. If you're asking if I'm him, well." 

"You're both tiny things," he said. "But I doubt I could get that confused." She rubbed her face against his shoulder. 

"He's doing better, Gerard," she whispered. "He really is." 

"Didn't I tell you?" 

"Insufferable," she whispered. He kissed her. She kissed back. It was such a relief to kiss him again without terror for Frank. Giddiness welled up inside her that she'd been too tired for the previous night when Frank's fever broke. When Gerard's tongue stroked over her bottom lip, she wrapped her ankle over his and slid her tongue against his. 

"Jamia," he muttered against her lips, then pressed their mouths together again, one hand sliding around her waist, the other tracing the swell of her breast. She wanted his hands all over her, his mouth. Wanted to touch him so much. 

She sat up abruptly and pulled her nightgown up over her head. She put her hands in his hair and tugged his head to her breast, arching into his tongue when he swiped it obediently over the nipple. He swirled his tongue around several times before he started sucking. His fingers slid up her side from her waist to fondle the other, twisting gently She sighed. He knew exactly how hard to touch her. How to tease. 

He slid his lips to the valley of her breasts and licked between them, then took her other nipple in his mouth. She moaned softly and tightened her fingers in his hair. Jamia felt his hands tighten on her hips, then he swung her around to lean against the pillows, kissing decisively down her stomach. She spread her legs and he settled between them. He kissed over her hips and down the tops of her thighs. She could barely breathe, waiting for the touch of his mouth. Craving it. 

Her skin felt tender, stretched, rippling under his hands. Like this was a dream. But it wasn't. He slid his lips up her inner thighs, sucked a mark on the soft skin at the junction of her hip. Finally, he used his fingers to spread her wide and leaned in to lick her center. 

"Gerard," she whispered, arching up against his mouth. 

"So beautiful. So kind," he whispered back, alternating soft suction with teasing flicks. 

"I wish you could touch all of me at once," she answered unsteadily, kneading her own breasts, twisting her fingers through his hair. 

"I can try," he murmurs against her and licked down and slid his tongue inside her. He moved his hands to her belly and stroked gently over her skin. He worked her so slowly, so gently, that Jamia was taken over by waves of pleasure before she even realized she was close. She gasped his name, and twined their fingers together. He slid his fingers into her and stroked them in and out until she moaned again. 

"Gerard," she gasped. 

"Let go, lovely," he whispered. Her hips were moving and his fingers felt so good. He leaned down to suck again and she started shaking. She shuddered and found release again. "Lovely, lovely," he murmured again, and she tugged at his shoulders until he hoisted himself up next to her. 

He kissed her gently, but she licked all of her own wetness off his lips and whispered, "I want to watch you now." 

"Whatever you want," he whispered. She curled against his side and rubbed a hand over his chest. He wrapped a hand around his cock. He made a little noise, a strangled sigh. She echoed it with a hum and flicked at his nipple, watching him stroke himself gently. 

"You'll touch him like this, when he's well," she whispered. 

"Yes," he moaned. "Like this. More. He loves it." 

"I know," Jamia replied and leaned up to kiss him. He moaned into her mouth again when she wrapped her fingers around his. He gasped then and Jamia helped him start stroking again. 

"Jamia. Ohhhh. Jamia." He was trying to be quiet, but she loved the way he said her name. She pillowed her head back on his shoulder and moved her fingers with his. They stroked him until he was breathing hard and making a broken noise on every stroke. 

"Gerard," she whispered. "Beautiful." 

She pressed her lips against his throat, and he moaned into her hair, stiffened, and spilled into their hands. She pulled him on top of her and wrapped herself around him and they kissed. Jamia felt better than she had in days. 

"I'd forgotten what it was like to wake up with someone," Gerard mumbled, stroking her hair. 

"You'll be married soon," she whispered. "You won't forget again." 

"I hope... I hope to sometimes find someone else by my side," he said hesitantly. 

"I think we'll be able to work something out," she whispered. "Because I'd be very sad not to wake up just like this again someday soon." 

"When you are married," Gerard purred, "you will have to convince your husband to invite us into that acre of bed he has." 

"How convenient that it's something I'd spend all the time in the world doing." Jamia laughed and kissed him again, but she knew he was trying to sound more confident than he was. 

"Let's go make sure it can happen," she whispered. They kissed a little longer and then got up. Jamia pulled on her shift and dress. Gerard interfered, touching her at every opportunity before they left the room. She laughed and bullied him into his own clothing, then peeked out her door to find a deserted hallway. She led him by the hand back to his own room, and Frank. Lindsey was there as well, reading by the bed. 

"You just missed Mikey," she said. "We'll have a supper tray sent up later. You look...well-rested." 

Jamia smiled and leaned in to kiss her. "I feel much better, thank you." 

Gerard nodded. "Much better." 

"How is he?" Jamia asked. 

"He wakes every few hours now, drinks some water, goes back to sleep." She colored. "I've been reading to him." 

Gerard stroked her hair and leaned down to kiss her as well. "Thank you for taking care of him in our stead." 

"Thank you for taking care of yourselves," Lindsey replied, pulling on his shoulders to give him another kiss. Jamia smiled and sat in the unoccupied chair, reaching for Frank's hand. He stirred, but didn't wake. 

That was all right. She didn't feel anymore like every time he was waking now might be his last.

 

*~*~*~*

 

[Lindsey while Frank starts to recuperate, they get closer; Mikey and Alicia go to London to sell the diamonds and get married with the special license]

 

*~*~*~*

 

[Gerard as Frank recuperates, reconciliation, F/G sex, F helps him find a house for Mikey and Alicia, insists they move in with Frank and Jamia]

 

*~*~*~*

 

[Frank while G goes to London to finalize business, the girls sneak over in costume for F/L/J sex; Gerard's return and discussion of wedding plans]

 

*~*~*~*

 

[Jamia epilogue, after the double wedding, OT4]


End file.
